


Revive

by Amethystina



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Ableist Language, And there are happy endings, Angst, Chuck Lives, Emotional Trauma, Foul and/or Insulting Language (shame on you Chuck), Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Seriously you have no idea how happy, Slow Burn, You're gonna need to floss after this, but also fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 59,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1713989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystina/pseuds/Amethystina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck never expects to survive Operation Pitfall. And he certainly doesn't expect Raleigh Becket, of all people, to care when it turns out that Chuck has somehow cheated death. It doesn't take long for Chuck to realise that <em>living</em> and <em>surviving</em> isn't exactly the same thing however - especially not with permanent damage he will carry with him for the rest of his life.</p><p>But maybe, just maybe, he can find ways to make it worthwile. Raleigh seems quite interested in the job, if nothing else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lollies

**Author's Note:**

> I am jumping into new fandoms left and right. It's just that I really wanted to write at least one Pacific Rim fanfic and while I know that the idea might not be entirely original I hope that I managed to offer something new and exciting. If nothing else in the shape of stupid amounts of fluff and happy endings at the, well... end. The first couple of chapters will be a bit rough but I promise you that it will be worth it.
> 
> [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) is my beta, who valiantly survived despite how emotional everything in this fic made her, and you can find me over at my [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/) if you have any questions!
> 
> Also, I am stupidly proud over having drawn that banner. It looks even better than I imagined, even if it was tricky to meld the two Jaegers together like that.

 

* * *

 

Chuck really didn't like Raleigh Becket.

It wasn't just wounded pride and him being a sore loser – which he admittedly was – it was the fact that Becket was so up himself that he didn't seem to realise that he was jeopardising the entire mission. While Chuck could easily dislike the bloke just for being such a bloody dipstick it was the disregard for other people's safety that really set him off.

He could understand Mako, to a certain degree. They'd met several times when they were younger on accounts of their dads working together and Chuck knew her fairly well by then. She had always had ambitions to become a Jaeger pilot, all wide-eyed enthusiasm and vengeful determination. Chuck got that, he did, and he could admit that in a less fucked up situation she might have been a good pilot. But paired up with some washed out ex-Ranger most likely suffering from PTSD at the very least or brain damage at worst?

Chuck almost felt bad for her.

Well, at least until Raleigh fucking Becket punched him in the face while she watched and Chuck figured that they could both piss off. It was part anger that he lost the fight and partly because no one else seemed to understand what a liability they were. This wasn't some rehab for unstable has-beens – it was all-out war, kill or be killed and the end of days as they knew them.

Chuck didn't want to bring any loose cannons on his bomb run.

And perhaps it was a little bit personal as well. Chuck could admit that he despised Becket almost on principle for bailing out the way he had, dead brother or not. The responsibility they had to the PPDC and the people they were protecting shouldn't be so easy to throw away. And yeah, perhaps sixteen-year-old Chuck had felt disappointed when he didn't get to compete against the Becket brothers when he finally climbed into a Jaeger with his dad, and perhaps even a little betrayed when they didn't turn out to be the young, confident heroes the media had made them into.

They were just ordinary men and not particularly inspiring ones either.

That was years ago though. Since then Chuck had learnt more about the war – the losses, the injuries and the battles – and he knew that there was no such thing as heroes. It was a childish notion and he had grown out of it soon enough.

Becket in particular was no hero.

Chuck was insulted by how Becket had run off only to come swaggering back years later, the prodigal son returning, there to save the day. It pissed Chuck off in a huge way. He didn't understand what made Becket so special and considering how he and Mori were only fucking things up it was pretty clear that they didn't need him either.

So Chuck didn't exactly feel that he was in the wrong when he called them out on their bullshit. He was, however, slightly embarrassed that he had gotten his ass handed to him by that bloody wanker. Chuck wanted to blame it on the Ghost Drift between Becket and Mori and the fact that he hadn't expected those moves – _her_ moves – when fighting the bastard, but it was a sad excuse. He'd seen them both during the tryouts and he knew that their fighting styles were similar enough that he shouldn't have been surprised. They were more fluid while Chuck relied on brute strength.

And he lost.

There was no use denying that. He had flat out lost against a glorified construction worker with brain damage. Granted that the man was an ex-Ranger but Chuck hadn't thought that Becket would still be in the shape he was. He hadn't expected Becket to be _better_ than him. Not after five years of crawling on top of that pathetic wall the politicians kept promising would keep them all safe.

That in itself – the fact that a Ranger, ex or not, had been working on what got them all decommissioned – was a huge betrayal.

So Chuck didn't like Raleigh Becket all that much.

Actually, he was pretty certain that he despised him. Becket stood for so many things that Chuck just couldn't stomach and the fact that he'd gotten beaten by him only made matters worse.

Chuck was furious with himself for losing, furious at Herc for stepping in and furious at Raleigh bloody Becket for being such a smug, self-centred piece of shit. Mako got off the hook only because she was the rookie and Becket had thrown her out of alignment first. Becket – or the Marshal at least – should have known it wouldn't work. A Drift between those two was outright dangerous and it obviously took them nearly blowing the entire 'dome off the map before anyone else agreed.

It wasn't much of a consolation though. He and Becket had still resorted to throwing punches and Chuck found himself on the receiving end of that defeated look his dad sometimes shot his way – as if Chuck was beyond help and a disappointment altogether.

So Chuck chose to bail out rather than listen to the earbashing his dad probably had in store for him. And, to be honest, he was pretty sure that no one wanted him to stick around anyway.

It wasn't like he didn't know that most people saw him as a rude, spoiled brat you'd do well to avoid. He was arrogant, not a drongo. But they didn't need to like him for either of them to do their respective jobs so he was totally fine with that. It was always easier to fall back on anger than actually show any kind of weakness or kindness.

There was no room for kindness in the world of Jaegers and Rangers, not with Kaiju at their door.

And fuck it, there was no place for Becket either but he was obviously too daft to pick up on that. Chuck would have made another attempt to remind him if it wasn't for the fact that he would probably be just as unsuccessful a second time around. He honestly wasn't that keen on getting beaten up.

So he resorted to seething in anger instead while pacing inside his room, trying to ignore the twinge in his back, the dull ache in his shoulder and the lingering taste of blood in his mouth. Fucking Becket with his annoying lost puppy dog look that seemed to trick everyone into believing that he was some kind of saint. He wasn't. He was a bloody arse.

Max was giving Chuck a calm, judgemental stare from where he lay curled up on his doggy bed before sighing in that utterly bored, suffering manner only dogs seemed to manage. As if Chuck was being the unreasonable one.

Even Chuck's dog was switching sides. Wasn't that just grand?

"Bloody traitor," Chuck groused, none too maturely.

Max snorted – clearly unimpressed – before shifting around with a low, rumbling bulldog grumble until his back was to Chuck, clearly signalling that the conversation was over. Chuck would have flipped him off if it hadn't been _his dog_ and that was definitely beneath him. Besides, as annoying as the wrinkly critter was sometimes Chuck still kind of adored him – even if Max wasn't on the Raleigh Becket hate train with him. Chuck was sure he had raised Max better than that, but apparently not.

Probably Herc's fault.

Because his dad seemed to like Becket just fine, which might be an added thorn in Chuck's side. He didn't want to know how amazing Becket was or how good a pilot he might have been when his brother was still around. It was ages ago since he had jockeyed and they weren't in a position where they could risk failure. Operation Pitfall was looming on the horizon and Chuck would kill Becket himself if they failed because of someone like him.

Raleigh Becket was a whacker and had no business being in a Jaeger.

Fuck that stupid arsehole.

Standing stranded and useless on top of Striker while watching Gipsy Danger kick not only one but two Kaiju asses was, admittedly, enough to change Chuck's opinion on Raleigh Becket and Mako Mori's usefulness. She was still a rookie and Chuck still didn't _like_ the bloke but that wasn't a requirement. Loathing and reluctant respect was, funnily enough, not mutually exclusive.

And despite whatever he felt towards Becket and Mori it was still them – the Rangers, Jaegers and humanity as a whole – against the Kaiju. Who the fuck cared about who delivered the killing blow as long the beasts went down? So yeah, Chuck was bloody well going to cheer them on if it meant that less people died. He wasn't petty enough to hold a grudge when lives were at stake. His priority had and always would be getting rid of the Kaiju and as long as Becket and Mori were in agreement they could maybe find ways to work together and finish this bloody mission.

That didn't mean that Chuck was able to swallow his pride and offer them more than a slight nod in thanks for saving his ass, but it wasn't like anyone expected more either. Sometimes it was actually a bit of a relief not having to make any attempts at being civil because everyone already knew that Chuck was rude on a good day and spitting insults with each breath on bad ones. Low expectations meant that he could get away with minimum effort and avoid potentially coming off as an idiot or a wuss.

Feeling happy about their momentary victory would have been easier if it hadn't been for the literal two big gaping holes where Cherno Alpha and Crimson Typhoon should have been. Chuck couldn't say that he had known either of the five pilots all that well but he felt the loss all the same – felt the anxiety pressing down on him when he knew that there would be two less Jaegers protecting him on the bomb run.

Their odds were depressingly low.

What had been a bold, daring plan was beginning to look like a bloody suicide run – and not one that would be particularly successful at that.

In a way Chuck had always known that it would be a suicide run – he wasn't that stupid – but before this last attack he had been able to fool himself that with so many Jaegers they might actually make it back. Now though?

It would take a miracle, especially for him.

It wasn't that he doubted his own abilities but his dad was out of commission and Striker was the one delivering the payload. If the Kaiju were as smart as they seemed to have become they wouldn't bother with Gipsy Danger – they would go straight for Striker Eureka. Especially if there were more than one, like Dr. Gottlieb had predicted.

Chuck didn't know what to feel about that even if he knew what it would most likely result in.

He was going to die.

If he got inside that Jaeger he probably wouldn't make it back. Chuck had accepted it with a resigned kind of detachment. People would probably be surprised by how calmly he took it.

He didn't _want_ to die of course – he hadn't lied when he told Becket that he planned on coming back from the mission – but he wasn't going to believe it until it happened. There was a huge difference between intention and what actually came to pass. Chuck had learned that early on.

There was no room for disillusion when you were at war.

But he couldn't say that he wasn't feeling it – the nerves and jitters and plain apprehension towards what was to come. He was only human. He could accept that he was probably about to die but he couldn't help feeling anxious about it.

Restlessness was clawing at him, building in his throat until he could barely breathe. It was only a matter of time before the Jaegers were repaired to the best of the techs' abilities and Chuck doubted that they would get much time before they were ordered to ship out after that. Operation Pitfall would begin. And this could very well be his last hour alive not spent in a Jaeger.

Pathetically enough he couldn't think of a single thing he wanted to do.

His life had only ever been the war, Jaegers and Kaiju. Even when it was coming to an end he couldn't think outside of those parameters.

What else did he have?

Perhaps that was why he found himself drifting towards the main hangar, Max's leash loose in his hand. The J-techs were busy at work, taking no notice of him as they raced against the clock trying to get the Jaegers up and running as quickly as possible. Chuck could feel the urgency in the air – the almost expectant panic.

They all knew they were coming closer and closer to the end.

Max trotted faithfully next to him when Chuck climbed the stairs, one metal grated level after the other, until he was high enough that he could overlook the two Jaegers without craning his neck uncomfortably. As much as he wished that the war had never happened he couldn't deny that the Jaegers were a work of art. They were downright beautiful, and he was pretty certain that he loved them as much as he hated them – both for what they had given and taken from him.

Chuck braced his hands against the railing, staring out at the last two remaining Jaegers.

It didn't matter that Chuck knew that it would most likely lead to his death – he would still take part in the mission. Not that he knew exactly how the Marshal had planned for it to play out with only three active pilots at his disposal, but Chuck wouldn't put it past the man to have some final ace up his sleeve. Chuck was willing to put a little faith in the man who had, despite everything, gotten them as far as this.

A sharp tug on Max's leash pulled Chuck back to the present and he was honestly surprised to find that he wasn't alone, especially since he couldn't quite tell if Becket had been there the whole time or not. It almost looked like it, what with the distant look on his face as he stared almost forlornly at the Jaegers, much like Chuck had.

Becket was still in his Drivesuit, probably figuring that it was more of a hassle to get out of it and then back in again when the repairs were done rather than just staying in it. Becket and Mori probably didn't have more than two hours before they would be performing their next drop – possibly even less than that.

Max sniffed on the side of Becket's armoured calf, the leash stretched taut as he tried to reach further. Chuck had half a mind to rein him back in but he figured that if Becket somehow found dog drool offensive he would just have to say so. And be the one to withstand Max's bloody puppy eyes when he didn't get exactly what he wanted.

To Chuck's immense surprise Becket seemed to come out of his daze and smiled a little crookedly before bending down to rub a gloved hand over Max's head. Chuck felt his eyes narrow, as if he honestly expected Becket to do some funny business to his dog.

Max – the bloody traitor – plonked down on his haunches, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth as he grumbled happily under the attention he was getting. Chuck snorted in disdain but the look Max gave him seemed to say that Chuck was clearly the one missing out on the fun here.

"What a cheeky little shit you are," Chuck informed his dog, who only seemed to hum louder and butt his head against Becket's hand to get another pat, which was obviously the dog equivalent of completely ignoring whatever Chuck had just said.

"He's more well-behaved than you are," Becket deadpanned before straightening, leaving Max to whine in disappointment.

Chuck felt the familiar flare of indignation and anger, his hands clenching harder around the metal railing. The smile he gave Becket was more of a sneer.

"Well, _Rah_ leigh, I guess I'm just better at raising people than my old man is."

It was obvious that Becket wanted to say something – his shoulders tense, body angled as if bracing for a fight – so it was a little surprising when he eventually just exhaled slowly, softly almost, before turning back to look out over the gigantic hangar. Chuck wasn't sure what to make of that.

Max seemed to admit defeat and dragged himself over to slump at Chuck's feet instead, but not without a suffering, dejected sigh. Chuck pursed his lips and gave the silly bulldog an unimpressed glare. Max ignored him.

Becket seemed to be ignoring him too, or at least not jumping at the chance to start another fight. Chuck had to admit that it was somewhat of a relief. While he was high-strung and agitated and honestly wouldn't mind some kind of outlet they couldn't risk landing more pilots in medical. That would only jeopardise the mission even further.

That's not to say that Chuck was all that interested in standing there having some sort of mutual introspective bonding moment with Becket – which seemed to be what was going on – but Chuck would be damned if he left first.

He heard the crinkle of some kind of plastic but it wasn't until Becket actually spoke to him that he looked up.

"Hey, catch."

Chuck did, but only out of pure reflex, grabbing whatever Becket was lobbing at him mid-air. When he unfurled his fingers he couldn't help staring at what was lying in his palm.

"Why the fuck are you throwing lollies at me?"

Because it was. Some generic, green piece of hard candy in a clear wrapper.

"Why not?" Becket replied with a shrug, looking like a complete dimwit standing there in his shiny, black Drivesuit with a bag of colourful lollies in his hand. Where the heck he had been hiding them up until then was a mystery that Chuck told himself that he probably didn't want to pursue.

"What are you? Five?" he shot back, contemplating throwing the candy at Becket's head to counteract the amused grin on his face – as if Chuck's reaction was funny somehow.

"Only you could find candy offensive," Becket replied with a snort.

"I know a couple of diabetics who might disagree."

Strangely enough Becket only rolled his eyes rather than saying something insulting back. He seemed really reluctant to even get into a verbal fight. It made Chuck uneasy. He was used to people either pushing back or retreating when he got started, not outright ignoring him like his barbs meant nothing at all.

Becket unwrapped and popped one of the lollies into his mouth – which was rather impressive considering the Drivesuit gloves he still wore – and Chuck couldn't help grimacing when Becket proceeded to bite down around it with a loud, snapping crunch.

"Jesus, mate, ya' gonna crack your teeth going about it like that." It slipped out before Chuck could hold it back.

Becket looked at him, eyes wide and wholly innocent, but there was something juvenile and almost challenging in the way he just kept chewing, clearly not bothered by the crunching noises that sent chills down Chuck's spine.

"I'd say that's the least of my worries right now."

He had a point. Maybe. Arse.

Chuck considered giving his piece of candy to Max but knowing his canine companion he'd probably manage to choke on it somehow and then Chuck really would have to kill Becket for inadvertently murdering his dog. But Chuck wasn't sure if he wanted it himself either.

It was stupid that something so small could actually make Chuck uneasy. It was just a piece of candy for fuck's sake and he was pretty certain that Becket hadn't poisoned it somehow. He just couldn't figure out why on earth Becket had given it to him in the first place.

Chuck briefly wondered how Becket had gotten his hands on candy – it couldn't have been easy considering the war and all that – but he wasn't interested enough to actually ask about it. What Becket did on his spare time was none of Chuck's business.

It was only to prove to himself that he was clearly making too big a deal out of it that he ended up unwrapping the flimsy plastic. Max lifted his head as if to check if this was something he could perhaps partake in but Chuck shook his head.

It tasted like apples.

And unlike Becket he knew not to chew on the bloody thing. Chuck still felt a little stupid. He couldn't remember the last time he ate lollies of this kind but he guessed on years and years ago, when he was still just a wee sprog.

It was actually kind of nice. In a weird, probably retarded, way.

That didn't stop Chuck from giving Becket a sharp glare when he felt eyes on him.

"Not a fucking word, mate." It was difficult to sound threatening when you were struggling not to let a piece of hard candy clack against your teeth and this was apparently something that seemed to amuse Becket greatly.

Chuck responded with the middle finger and was rewarded with a surprisingly sincere laugh.

Becket looked happy and relaxed when he laughed.

Chuck felt his chest tighten and he wasn't entirely sure what caused it. Seeing Becket smile shouldn't make that big of a difference, even if Chuck was more used to that constipated look Becket always had when he seemed mere inches from baring his teeth and snarling because Chuck pissed him off somehow. It wasn't a good look on him.

Laughing was though. Becket looked even more like a blond overgrown puppy when he did that. Chuck kinda wanted to hate him for it but it was difficult to find the proper motivation.

He couldn't tell if that was a good or a bad thing.

Chuck turned his head and braced his elbows on the metal railing, looking out at the two Jaegers while trying not to show how unsettled he was. It was awkward being in Becket's company when they weren't throwing insults or punches and the silence that settled between them felt tense.

The taste of apples only seemed to distract him more.

 

 

Chuck shot Becket a nasty look when he started crunching on another piece of candy. Becket met the glare head on, completely unafraid, before turning towards Chuck.

Oh fucking hell. Becket was going to attempt to talk to him, wasn't he?

"Why do you hate me so much?"

Chuck blinked.

Out of all the things he had been expecting that definitely wasn't it. To cover up his surprise he merely scoffed and shrugged, as if it was no big deal and not something worth talking about.

Becket didn't seem to accept that as a proper answer.

"Because as far as I know I haven't done anything to warrant that kind of dislike."

Chuck gritted his teeth and pushed off from the railing, causing Max to grumble in frustration at the slight tug on his leash. The dog didn't move though, not even when Chuck turned towards Becket, advancing a step as if to meet the obvious challenge.

"Oh really? Little Ray is feeling hurt that not everyone is worshipping the very ground he walks on, is that it?" Chuck snarled.

Becket stiffened immediately.

"That's not what-"

"Nah, mate, you fucking asked so I'll lay it out for you."

Chuck forced himself not to get up in Becket's face. He really wanted to but the necessity of not putting another pilot out of commission was no less important just because he was angry. Not to mention the fact that odds were that he would be the one flat on his back before it was all over, not Raleigh bloody Becket.

"You fucking bailed, that's what. A Ranger doesn't bail."

"What? A Ranger like you?" Becket snapped back. "Who obviously can't see the difference between an ally and his enemies and keeps picking on both like some egotistic, insecure child?"

Chuck saw red.

He could feel the anger curling under his skin, menacing and enticing. He spat out the candy to be able to speak properly, not even caring where it landed.

"You fucking watch it, Becket," Chuck hissed, taking a step closer.

Now that look was back on Becket's face – the sneering, barely curbed contempt.

"Or what? You're going to let me kick your ass again?"

Chuck wanted to strangle the man. He could probably use Max's leash to do it. His hands clenched, knuckles turning white.

"But let's do this your way, Hansen," Becket continued while scrunching up the bag of lollies in his hand, "I'll lay it out for you. After Anchorage they didn't want me in a Jaeger any more than I wanted to be in one."

Chuck paused but forced himself not to waver.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Becket spread his arms wide, mangled candy bag in one hand, looking almost achingly earnest.

"Exactly what I just said. You think that they would have let me stay on after what happened?" He sounded incredulous of all things. "I disobeyed a direct order, got my brother killed, wrecked one of their Jaegers and probably caused myself permanent brain damage by piloting Gipsy on my own. Even if I had stayed they would have dishonourably discharged me and I would have been just as useless to the cause. If it wasn't for the Marshal and how desperate he is I would never have considered getting back inside a Jaeger and the brass sure as hell wouldn't have let me."

Chuck faltered. Okay, he might not have thought of that and it was difficult to argue against it.

Becket chuckled humourlessly.

"It wouldn't surprise me if the Marshal has somehow failed to officially mention that I'm even here in the first place."

Becket caught and held Chuck's gaze, looking so much more tired and weary than someone that young should probably be allowed to. Like he had already suffered through an entire lifetime and was paying the price in mute, aching silence. Chuck swallowed.

"Staying wouldn't have made any kind of difference. You saw what happened when I Drifted with Mako. I threw her – someone that controlled and precise – out of alignment and that's after five years of supposed time to heal. How do you think that would have played out if they had dragged me back in earlier? What kind of strain would that have put on my co-pilot? How many people would I have hurt before I either got it under control or they kicked me out?"

Chuck didn't want to feel sorry for the guy – and told himself that he didn't – but it was hard to stay angry when the one you were pissed at looked so pathetic. It felt like he was kicking a puppy for fuck's sake. Stupid bloody Raleigh and his wounded puppy dog look.

Chuck eased back, subtly trying to hide just how uncomfortable he was now that he couldn't just shout at the bloke. Max was giving him a judgemental stare, as if Chuck was somehow to blame for the turns the conversation was taking.

His dog really needed to start looking over where his loyalties were.

"Trust me when I say that I've been through this thousand of times these past five years – replayed it over and over again in my mind, trying to figure out what I could have done differently." Becket looked down at the bag of lollies in his hand. "But it's no use. The moment Yancy died I just-..."

Oh hell no. Chuck was not ready to deal with that slight but still noticeable crack in Becket's voice when he said his brother's name. It wasn't Chuck's fault since Becket was the one who had pulled them towards this particular subject but he still felt a twinge of guilt.

He was pretty sure that Becket didn't want to talk about this. Chuck knew deep down that Becket was probably still so torn up about it that he barely even knew how to form the words. And Chuck sure as hell knew that Raleigh would swap places with Yancy Becket if he only could. He didn't even have to know the man all that well to read the look on his face.

But he couldn't say that out loud. He didn't know how.

"For fuck's sake, Becket, don't start bawling on me."

Becket scoffed – or perhaps it was some kind of half-choked chuckle – before shaking his head.

"Relax, Hansen, we don't have time for nervous breakdowns."

Chuck flashed a quick, sharp grin but it was a little too uneasy.

"Good onya. For once we can agree about something." Chuck was desperately eager to steer clear of their previous line of conversation.

He didn't want to be reminded about his own accusations either because, yeah, Becket had a point. Becket would probably not have been allowed to remain a Ranger if all the paperwork and hearings had had time to be completed before he left on his own accord. The PPDC wasn't exactly lax when it came to the expectations and demands they placed on their Rangers.

Chuck was willing to let the subject go, mostly because he knew that he wouldn't be able to apologise even if a tiny, miniscule part of him maybe felt that he should. It wasn't like Becket had actually wanted his big brother to get killed like that.

But of course Becket had to be a girl about it and bring it right back up again.

"If it had been wiser to stay I would have, but it really wasn't. I couldn't do it. And perhaps that's a little selfish but I'm pretty sure I spared a couple of co-pilots the agony of sharing headspace with me. Getting back inside a Jaeger that shortly after my brother's death would have broken me completely."

Chuck didn't understand how anyone could admit something like that so openly – as if Becket wasn't afraid of being called weak or pathetic – but he made sure not to question it. If anything he wanted the entire conversation to end. He was going to full-on panic if he had to discuss any more of Becket's precious feelings.

"So it wasn't that-"

"Oh bloody Jesus, mate! Will you let up? I'll fucking _pay_ you to shut up, alright?" Chuck barked, but failed quite spectacularly when it came to looking menacing. "I get it, okay? So just-... stop talking. For fuck's sake, stop talking."

Becket – the bastard – grinned.

"Yeah, yeah, stop looking so fucking smug." Chuck tugged on Max's leash, the bulldog getting to his feet surprisingly quickly, shaking himself back to full alertness. Chuck shot Becket a nasty glare. "You're doing it on purpose, aren't ya'?"

Becket adopted that open, earnest look he sometimes had which was apparently his way of pretending to be innocent even if they all knew he wasn't. Kinda like a puppy. And fuck it if it wasn't working as well.

Chuck shook his head with a scoff.

Such a dork.

"We're going to come back from this."

Chuck looked up, pausing for several seconds. He knew what Becket was referring to – you had to be an idiot not to get it. At this point it wasn't even clear if Chuck was going to be able to pilot Striker since he couldn't do it without his dad, but even so he had to call Becket out on his lie.

A wry smile spread on his lips.

"No, we won't."

Becket looked sad, as if he didn't want Chuck to give up so easily.

"And you're fine with that?"

Chuck shrugged, pulling softly on Max's leash to make him turn and walk the first couple of steps towards the stairs leading down to ground level.

"I've known it since before I even jockeyed the first time, Ray. You might have been here during the glory days when Jaegers were invincible and pilots were gods among men, but me? I only caught the tail end of that. For me it was war from day one and I always knew that as soon as I committed myself to this it'd be where I died too."

Becket smiled – a crooked, aching kind of smile.

"And you still climbed on."

Chuck grinned, wide and brash, spreading his arms as he backed towards the stairs.

"Hell yeah, old man. I couldn't let mediocre pilots such as yourself lead the way, now could I?"

Becket shook his head but there was almost a slight gentleness to the way he smiled – a softness in his eyes.

"Then you better show us the way, kid, and you do it well. We will need it where we're going. Gipsy will follow your lead."

There was a strange kind of lurch in Chuck's chest and he had to try twice before he was able to breathe properly again. And even then he was pretty certain that his smile was a little shaky and his steps somewhat faltering.

"Hey."

He stopped, looking back at Becket, who unfurled the bag of candies, fished one out and tossed it at Chuck. He couldn't help catching it.

Yellow, this time.

"One for the road," Becket explained with a slight nod.

Chuck rolled his eyes.

"Dork."

"Brat," Becket shot back without missing a beat.

Chuck flipped him off over his shoulder as he continued to walk, but he held on to the candy.

He couldn't quite tell if his chest felt lighter or heavier as he made his way down the stairs, Max lumbering faithfully beside him, but he felt the strangest urge to smile.

That had to mean something.

Chuck clearly wasn't thinking straight when he popped the yellow piece of candy into his mouth just as he and the Marshal were getting ready for the drop. He just figured that it would be a shame to waste it and he hadn't had the opportunity to eat it before since he had been talking to his dad.

It was almost soothing to taste the lemon on his tongue while he struggled to push all the thoughts of Herc and Max aside. He didn't need that now.

He couldn't _afford_ to linger on it, not when Striker was getting ready to ship out with a bomb strapped to its back and he was in the middle of Drifting with Stacker Pentecost of all people. That in itself was humbling, terrifying and mindboggling, all at once.

Chuck ended up forgetting about the candy, so focused on their mission and keeping the Drift stable that it fell out of his mind entirely. It was when they were on their way towards the drop off point that the Marshal brought it up.

"Why do I smell lemon?"

"I have no idea, sir," Chuck lied instantly, tucking the candy under his tongue as if to hide it away.

It was only Chuck's sense of pride that kept him from clearing his throat and fidget but he couldn't deny that the tips of his ears were burning when the Marshal gave him a long, even stare and a dubiously raised eyebrow.

Chuck was pretty certain that Pentecost was in fact _not_ smelling lemon himself considering their helmets, but he was in all likelihood feeling it through the Drift. Probably both smelled and tasted it.

This was all Becket's fault. Raleigh and his stupid lollies. But Chuck couldn't deny that he liked them. It was nice. Comforting.

"Really, Ranger?"

Chuck blew out a short breath that morphed into a strangled chuckle. He didn't even manage to get upset about it. Not when he might be dead within a couple of hours.

"Really, Marshal."

He could have said more but the Drift spoke for him.

Why not? It was harmless and would most likely be the last thing both of them tasted.

Why not enjoy it?

Pentecost didn't answer a first and when he did Chuck couldn't help grinning.

"Well, I always did like lemon."

"Roger that, sir."

Chuck reached for the switch that would detonate the payload, trying to push back the myriad of different thoughts and emotions whirling inside of him. Some slipped through his fingers, bleeding out into the Drift, spreading like ink on water.

_I wish I had told Dad I love him._

It was just one moment of frailty, so pure and instinctual in its intensity that it left Chuck feeling like a frightened little boy again.

_He knows. He has always known._

Chuck held his breath, both grateful for and intimidated by Pentecost's stable, reassuring presence inside his head.

_I know. But what good does that do when you can't say it, even when it matters the most? I should have told him._

Their gazes locked and Chuck forced himself to nod despite the fear, anger and regret clogging his throat. He always knew this was how it would end. He had accepted it. He had said his goodbyes. He was ready.

But even so – even if he was proud of what he had accomplished and wouldn't change a thing, not even Operation Pitfall – there was no way to silence that one final plea from a lost, confused little boy who never knew anything but war, death and suffering.

_I don't want to die._

A beat of silence.

_Then I won't let you._

Everything went white.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read some trivia somewhere that Raleigh has hard candies in his pockets that he eats when he's nervous or anxious, so yes, this is me taking that and running with it. Just watch me run, lovelies, watch me run.
> 
> Also, yes, this is a terrible place for the first chapter to end but I assure you that Chuck will survive. See you on Tuesday! :D
> 
> The art from this chapter can be found [HERE](http://lienwyn.tumblr.com/post/90054459726/fanart-for-the-chaleigh-fanfic-revive-by)!


	2. Alive

 

* * *

 

Noise. There was a lot of noise. A high pitched ringing in his ears. A distant rumble. Something jostled him – sent a shock of blinding pain through his skull – but he couldn't scream.

_"-on't think-"_

He wanted to move. Push away.

_"-ing. Shit. Mako, he's not breathing-"_

Mako?

It hurt. Everything seemed to hurt. His chest was tight. His skin pulled taut. He couldn't breathe.

_"-choppers are here-"_

What was going on?

_"-hold him steady-"_

Fuck. Everything hurt. It felt like he was burning. He wanted to grind his teeth, fight against the waves of pain rushing through his nervous system.

_"-ome on, Chuck, hang in-"_

Or maybe it would be easier to just let go? Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. Darkness was pulling at the edges of his consciousness, quiet and soothing.

_"-just a little while longer-"_

Letting go would be so easy.

_"-ou can do it-"_

The voice sounded oddly familiar.

_"-don't give in-"_

Becket? That was strange. What the fuck was Becket doing there?

He strained, trying to listen.

_"-on't tell me you're going to survive a nuclear blast only to die now, you overdramatic-"_

He would have given him the finger if he could. Fucking Becket. Of course he wasn't going to die. He wasn't one to give up. Not ever.

He'd show him.

He could bear the pain. He wasn't going to die. He'd show Becket.

_"-there you go, keep breathing, that's it-"_

It was still a relief when he eventually blacked out.

Chuck couldn't remember much from the first two weeks after Operation Pitfall. Part of that was because he had apparently been on so many different kinds of painkiller and antibiotics that he had practically been under some kind of medically induced coma. The rest was just him not wanting to remember.

He could recall bits and pieces – occasional flashes – if he tried real hard, but most of those were so closely entwined with the memories of pain, panic, a bright white light and _then I won't let you_ that he stopped trying. He didn't want to venture down that road. He didn't want to remember those last moments in Striker or the hazy, agonizing events just after.

He had been told that he was lucky to be alive, as if he couldn't figure that out himself.

Had Pentecost waited just a couple of seconds longer before kicking him out Chuck probably wouldn't have cleared the blast radius as well as he had. Which in itself was rather relative. The escape pod had, allegedly, been a right mess, but while Chuck was banged up almost beyond fixing he was still undeniably alive.

He honestly had no idea how to deal with that.

The first time he had woken up and been somewhat lucid he hadn't known what was going on. He had been disoriented, weak and scared out of his mind and he hadn't even noticed that his dad was there, holding him down as Chuck had attempted to run, hide, cower – anything to chase away the suffocating panic drowning him from the inside. He had struggled despite the agonising lashes of pain his movements had caused and probably hurt himself quite badly in the process.

The second time had been easier. Calmer. He had been told that he was alive but would need lots of time to recover. He hadn't even been able to understand the words at the time.

That came later, after several more instances of being at least mostly awake and conscious.

Herc was there the majority of the times, which was a bit of a surprise. In the beginning Chuck appreciated it but the more alert he became the more it seemed to frustrate him. He couldn't explain it – why it angered him to see his dad being a proper father for once – but he held it back, if only because he was too tired to shout and curse.

It took him about two and a half weeks before he was able to remain awake for longer than an hour at a time but he couldn't exactly say that it made him any happier. The only thing that came out of it was that he was forced to face his injuries and just how thoroughly fucked up he was.

Some of the bruises had faded by then he was told – as had the symptoms of his concussion – but he still had a sprained wrist, a hairline fracture in his skull, one cracked and two broken ribs, patched up internal bleeding, a slight case of radiation poisoning which meant lowered immune system and a leg so mangled that Chuck was hesitant to even call it a leg anymore.

Oh, and two of his premolars had somehow been knocked out.

He felt like he had gone a round against a meat grinder and lost spectacularly.

Most of those things he could deal with because he knew that he'd heal eventually. You couldn't be a Ranger without getting used to injuries of various kinds. The worst part by far this time around was that he didn't get to see Max on accounts of his lowered immune system. But Chuck could handle that too. He might not _bounce_ back exactly but he could at least struggle back onto his feet with some effort.

Well, if it hadn't been for his leg, that was.

Chuck didn't want to admit it but it scared the living crap out of him to know that he would be a cripple for the rest of his life.

The docs all tried to be nice and patient, telling him that the worst damage was mostly superficial – meaning his left leg would look like shit, he reckoned – but that with the right kind of motivation and physical therapy he'd be able to walk again in no time. When he asked them about running they calmly, if a bit gingerly, explained that due to the fractures and torn ligaments in his knee he was not likely to recover to that extent.

Chuck promptly threw the pitcher of water from his bedside table at them and refused to listen to Herc when he tried to scold him for acting like a child. Chuck didn't bloody care about that when he was obviously going to be living with this for the rest of his life. It made him so, so angry and he wanted to scream and curse just to let some of it out.

He had been prepared to die and while he hadn't been particularly _happy_ about it he'd come to terms with his life being over. So it was no surprise that it took some adjustment before he was able to realise that he was in fact _not_ dead. And once he did the first thing he was met with was the news that he would never be the same. He'd never run again. He'd be less than what he had been when he went in – he was never going to recover from this.

Call it childish and naïve but he hadn't been prepared for that. He hadn't been prepared to become a cripple at the age of twenty-one. He couldn't stand the thought of knowing that he would never be able to maintain the physical shape he had been in during his years as a Ranger. He would never fight again, not even just to spar, and he would never be able to take Max out for another run.

Chuck was a physical being, intense and full of crackling, electric energy that _needed_ an outlet. He needed to move and feel his muscles at work, he needed to feel things bend to his will and he needed to know that he could do it. Chuck didn't know how to exist without it. Without power, strength and the protective wall of sheer stubbornness he had built around himself over the years.

He felt so lost knowing that he wouldn't have that – that he would be less of a man now.

But he never let it show. He pushed it down, allowing it to fester and grow in his gut until he was just about ready to puke. He held it all back. He wasn't stupid. People didn't want to see that.

They wanted to see heroes.

While Chuck was confined to his sickbed he hadn't missed that the entire world was celebrating the end of the war and the closing of the Breach. He took some kind of sick, masochistic pleasure in watching the news reels about it. The cheering crowds, the stock footage from Jaeger and Kaiju battles over the years and all the smarmy pollies promising a better future now that the threat had been handled – as if they had somehow had a part in it when they were in actuality the ones responsible for shutting the Jaeger Program down. It made Chuck sick.

Mako and Becket were there as often as you'd expect – meaning pretty much all the time – doing interviews and press conferences. Sometimes Chuck's dad was there too and he saw his own name mentioned more times than he could count. Since the press couldn't exactly get an interview they just kept referring to him as the pilot still being treated for his injuries, which was all well and true, but it only served to make Chuck feel worse.

It wasn't that he wanted to be out there smiling for the cameras with Mori and Becket – the latter who, just for the record, managed to look both so terribly lost and stupidly endearing that Chuck just knew that people all over the world were falling in love with the dork as soon as they laid eyes on him. Mori, in comparison, was calm, professional and precise, in that respectful, humble kind of way that seemed to permeate everything she did. They made a fetching couple and the world adored them. And yeah, Chuck felt a twinge of jealousy at that, but not for the reason one might think.

He really wasn't interested in the spotlight. He was good at boasting, sure, but he disliked the cameras. He didn't fight Kaiju for the journos and gossipers and he was known to be brash and curt whenever someone stuck a mic in his face, asking for a comment. His public speaking skills were lacking at best.

No, the only reason that he wanted to be out there with them was because it would mean that he wasn't _here_ , stuck in a bloody bed like a fucking invalid. He was the only one still at the sickbay. He was the only one still struggling with his injuries from Operation Pitfall.

Becket and Mori both looked fine.

And it made Chuck feel like such a failure, knowing that he was weaker and frailer than them. If they got out of it practically unscathed then why couldn't he? They were never going to have to worry about not being able to run again or being more predisposed to cancer because of radiation poisoning.

They were smiling and waving to the crowd, the perfect poster couple to sell the dawning of this new, peaceful age that lay ahead of them. They were so bloody well-adjusted that Chuck wanted to throw something through the telly.

Although that wasn't quite true. Chuck knew that he was being unfair.

He saw clear as day that Mako mourned Pentecost with every breath she took and Becket looked haunted and strained when he thought no one was paying attention during the interviews. Even Herc was haggard and worn, stress and exhaustion carving deep lines on his face.

They were all struggling.

And Chuck wasn't going to be less than them by complaining. If they could grit and bear it then so could he. No one needed to know what he really felt inside – how hopeless, alone and utterly afraid he was. He would just carry on as usual. No one would notice. He could do this. He was going to fucking do this because he wasn't a bloody weakling and he refused to accept defeat. He was a Ranger for Christ's sake and if his dad had taught him one thing it was that you couldn't, under any circumstances, just roll over and give up. There was no room for failure. He refused to let it show.

So he swallowed it down. He pushed it back. Out of sight and out of mind.

He was fine.

He could handle this.

Or maybe he couldn't, as it turned out – at least if you asked his dad. Perhaps it was some sort of remaining Ghost Drift between them or perhaps Chuck just wasn't covering it up very well but Herc seemed to understand that something was wrong. He probably couldn't say what exactly but Chuck was clearly deteriorating mentally even if he was getting better physically.

They had just passed the three week mark after Operation Pitfall and Chuck was barely able to hold back his urge to beg his dad to smuggle Max into his hospital room somehow. Chuck still wasn't allowed to see him and missed him more than he thought possible. Herc had assured him that Max was fine but Chuck refused to believe it until he could confirm it himself. He just wanted to see his dog, damnit.

Instead he got to listen to his dad explaining was what going on around them. How the Shatterdome was beginning preparations to shut down now that the crisis was over. The PPDC's science division would still remain but relocate to a less war torn area, since it was obvious that while the immediate threat was over some were afraid that it wasn't permanently handled. They wanted to be prepared if the Breach reopened and while building more Jaegers seemed to be too much to ask out of the countries struggling to make ends meet funding research to better understand the Kaiju was marginally easier.

Chuck was glad to hear that people weren't foolish enough to believe that they were safe just because it seemed like they were.

His dad also told him that Becket and Mako would be returning in a week's time, after their victory tour to please the pollies and general public came to an end. Chuck couldn't help feeling a tiny bit excited about having them back, even if he knew that they wouldn't bother to come visit him.

While Herc never said it outright it was obvious that he had taken over the head position at the PPDC. Chuck could see it in the way he carried himself and the strain on his face. His dad had never been one for politics or administrative work, much rather preferring to be at the front lines. But in a sense Chuck guessed that his old man still was – the battlefield just looked a whole lot different.

Herc wasn't cut out for it but Chuck knew – with a certain amount of pride – that few would be able to fill Pentecost's shoes and out of those available his dad was definitely the best option.

Still, it was somewhat of a relief to hear that Mori would help oversee the closing of the Hong Kong Shatterdome and some other of the PPDC's responsibilities. She would probably make sure that Chuck's dad didn't work himself to death.

More often than not though they sat in silence whenever his dad was there to visit. He did so less and less, probably because he had a hard time justifying missing out on work when Chuck was in fact recovering, slowly but surely, and needed less supervision.

Chuck was fine with that. He hated being stuck in a hospital bed when there was no one else in the room since it left him alone with his increasingly dark thoughts, but he hated the silences that stretched out between him and Herc even more.

They hadn't talked.

Of course they hadn't. Chuck certainly didn't want to, but it was obvious that they would have to, sooner or later. There was too much unsaid between them, hanging oppressively over their heads as soon as they were in each other's presence. Chuck tried to ignore it and he could tell that his dad did as well.

Until the day he finally couldn't stand it, apparently.

"We need to talk."

Chuck reluctantly tore his eyes away from the telly mounted on the opposite wall to give Herc a narrow-eyed look. His dad didn't seem to react to the vehemence in Chuck's stare. If anything he looked concerned, but not without a stubborn streak, as if he knew that an argument was in their imminent future.

"Or you need to talk, at least. There's a psychiatrist-"

"Fucking _hell_ no! I'm not talking to a fucking shrink!" Chuck barked immediately, glaring daggers at his old man. He couldn't risk anyone finding out that he was barely keeping it together.

Since the water pitcher incident Chuck had been short and a little rude, yes, but never angry or violent. He knew it would reveal too much. He knew he couldn't let them glimpse how badly this affected him. He couldn't let them see.

"Chuck, it's a requirement to-"

"Pig's arse!"

His dad straightened in his chair, shoulders squaring. He looked quite authoritative, even with his arm in a sling and the dark circles under his eyes. Too bad Chuck had learned long ago to disobey his father when it came to practically everything.

"Chuck, this isn't negotiable. You _will_ -" Herc put emphasis on the word to interrupt Chuck's attempt to speak up "-do this. It's a standard psych eval required of us Rangers. We've all done it. Mako, Raleigh and I."

Chuck didn't want to hear about perfect little Mako and the infallible Becket. He didn't want to know that they probably passed with flying colours.

"Piss off," he hissed, wishing that he could storm out of the room or at the very least turn his back on his dad, but Chuck's leg had to be suspended and his ribs were still healing so there was no way he could move without also causing himself a great deal of pain.

Herc sighed, heavy and exasperated, which only served to make Chuck angrier. He couldn't help it if he was such a big fucking disappointment. Perhaps his dad should look into adopting the wonderful Raleigh Becket if he wanted a better son?

"I know it isn't easy, Chuck. But you can't just sit here and stew in anger and self-loathing."

"You don't know a bloody thing!" Chuck snarled, clenching his hands around the blanket throws over his legs. His right wrist protested but he ignored it. The sprain was soon healed anyway.

His dad gave him a hard, reprimanding look.

"I know that you can't keep doing this, deflecting everything and sulk in silence."

He hated it when Herc talked to him as if he was nothing but a stupid kid.

"Since when are you the expert on this, huh? And since bloody when did you decide that I was suddenly worth your time?" Chuck spat venomously.

While he and his dad fought often and viciously it had been a while since Chuck had been so outright nasty. The way his dad stiffened was proof enough of that. Chuck squashed the insistent, pulsing feeling of guilt and sneered at Herc.

"After mum died you barely even noticed me until I stepped into Striker's Conn-Pod with you, and then only because you bloody well couldn't ignore me when I was literally inside your head. You were always a shit dad and you chose the military over your own son. One tearful goodbye when said son leaves to die in the war doesn't magically fix that. You didn't actually _do_ anything." Chuck felt something burn at the back of his eyelids and his throat was tight and raw. "I might have come back but if you think that you're somehow off the bloody hook just because _I_ didn't die then you're fucking delusional."

His dad closed his eyes and his expression seemed to crumple when he rubbed a hand over his face. He looked so old and tired that Chuck felt his entire chest constrict but he couldn't stop. He couldn't let his anger fade. He knew what would happen if he did and he refused to break down. He fucking refused to cry.

"I know I've made a lot of bad decisions in my life," his dad began, voice weary and rough, "many of them involving how I treated you. And I regret that. I do. I should have been a better father."

"No shit?"

Unlike Chuck had expected Herc only looked sad, not angry, at the sarcastic remark.

"So you think it's too late, is that it?" his dad asked, meeting Chuck's gaze. Chuck swallowed, feeling something in him twist, pulling tight.

Of course not. It would never be too late. Contrary to popular belief there were some things Chuck knew about himself and the fact that he would go to great lengths to get his dad's attention was one of them. It pissed him off but it was true. He'd probably never give up on his dad even if the man didn't deserve that kind of devotion.

"I think you're being pretty fucking full of yourself when assuming that everything's okay."

"I don't, Chuck, I really don't," Herc replied earnestly. "And I don't want to waste this-"

"Oh come off it!"

His dad leaned forward in his chair.

"You survived, Chuck, even when you shouldn't have. We both know that."

"Yeah, thanks a lot for reminding me, you arse," Chuck snapped. He didn't want to think about that. He still had no idea how to deal with the fact that the Marshal's last act in life had been to attempt to save Chuck's life – and he had managed too, give or take half a leg.

"I for one want to see it as a good thing," his dad persisted, gaze intent.

Chuck scoffed.

"Go right ahead."

That seemed to set Herc off.

"Oi! Show some bloody respect, boy! Stacker went out of his way to save your arse-"

"Well maybe he shouldn't have!" Chuck roared, slamming his hand down on the bed hard enough to make the remote to the telly fall off the edge and clatter to the floor.

His dad was staring at him, eyes wide, and Chuck could feel a dreadful chill spread inside of him. The sudden silence in the room was deafening. Chuck didn't even dare to move. Shit. The silence lingered, pushing down on him, squeezing his chest and lungs until he couldn't breathe.

"You don't mean that." It sounded like something Herc wanted to believe but not something he was actually sure of.

Fuck.

Did Chuck mean it?

He had no idea. He honestly had no idea because he didn't know how to sort through all the impressions and emotions fighting for dominance inside of him. Not dying after having been prepared to. Pentecost saving him. Facing his dad again. Facing his injuries. Being crippled and broken for the rest of his life. Still not getting to see his bloody dog.

It was too much to handle.

"Just-... get out," he eventually squeezed out through clenched teeth.

"Chuck-"

"NO! I said get the fuck out!" Chuck would have thrown the remote at Herc if it hadn't already fallen to the floor. He would have to settle for a furious, scathing look, which would probably have been more effective if he hadn't felt so off-kilter. "Get. Out."

His dad hesitated, jaw clenched tight and back rigid – as if he was contemplating refusing –, but some of Chuck's desperation must have shown on his face. Or perhaps his dad realised that this was one time when it was better to just listen to what Chuck wanted.

He still sighed, tired and aching, as he reluctantly pushed himself to his feet, giving Chuck a lingering stare before heading for the door. He stopped just in front of it, turning to look back over his shoulder. Chuck remained stubbornly silent.

"It's still not negotiable," Herc said, voice softer than usual. "You have to talk to someone, Chuck."

Chuck gritted his teeth but said nothing, keeping his gaze fixed on the wall opposite to his hospital bed. It took a couple of seconds before he heard the door close behind his dad and his retreating footsteps, but Chuck couldn't say that it made him feel any better.

If anything he just felt worse.

Herc hadn't lied. Just two days later a man came into Chuck's room, introducing himself as Doctor something-some-such and obviously expected Chuck to talk to him. Someone must not have filled the bloke in on how utterly stubborn Chuck could be when he wanted to, because if they thought even for a second that Chuck couldn't remain in absolute silence for a full hour then they were clearly underestimating him.

So his first session went about as well as Chuck had expected.

He didn't say a word and only listened with half an ear to whatever the doc said. Chuck was actually pretty sure that he even managed to doze off somewhere in the middle.

His dad seemed disappointed but since they weren't talking – even less than before, which hadn't even seemed possible up until then – not much was said about it. Glares were exchanged but neither of them was willing to apologise or be the one to crack first and bring it up.

In a way Chuck missed Drifting with his dad. Ghost Drifting wasn't the same. Whenever they argued or disagreed about something it was always settled when they Drifted, not because they apologised but because they could tell that both sort of regretted it and didn't want to have to drag it all up for a second go. A sort of mutual evasion tactic, Chuck had taken to calling it. Nothing was ever solved or sorted out but at least they could agree to let it go and neither of them had to lose face to accomplish it.

This time they couldn't.

This time they didn't know what the other was thinking and even if Chuck never doubted that they still loved each other that didn't mean that they had an easier time getting along. If anything it just seemed to make it worse. Too many emotions were flying between them and neither of them was keen on admitting to them.

So they were at an impasse.

Chuck didn't mind. It meant that he was left mostly alone and could stare out into nothingness without having anyone ask if he was doing okay. Because he wasn't. Chuck might not be the best at gauging his own behavioural pattern or mental stability but he wasn't stupid enough not to notice when he was slipping precariously close to a serious case of depression. Perhaps he was already in it. Fact remained that he preferred to just hide it away rather than acknowledge it and it was easier when there was no one else around.

He would be fine.

He still couldn't bring himself to start preparing for all the physical therapy he would have to go through just to get his legs under him again, but he would be fine. Somehow. He would get through this and he would do it without letting anyone know how close he was to cracking.

Chuck felt pretty confused when he woke up after a nap – he took far too many of those if you asked him but the docs assured him that it was normal considering all the energy his body was burning through healing his various injuries – and found Tendo Choi sitting in the chair next to his bed.

Not that Tendo was paying him any attention, flipping through some kind of magazine with a bored look on his face.

"Oi, Elvis," Chuck drawled, grimacing at how hoarse his own voice sounded, "what the fuck are you doing here?"

Tendo didn't look up, clearly used to Chuck's less than polite way of greeting him.

"Your father kicked me out of LOCCENT."

Chuck couldn't help that he cracked a small grin at that, if only because Tendo looked so incredibly miffed and that in itself was bloody hilarious.

"Really? What for, mate?"

"They're beginning the dismantling of the command centre and I was obviously making the techs nervous," Tendo replied evenly, turning a page in his magazine.

"Aren't you the head honcho in there or something? Can they really kick you out?"

Tendo glanced up.

"Well, your father can. The ones doing the dismantling aren't my techs, by the way. These are some the UN sent because they want their precious technology back now that we won the war for them."

Things were beginning to make sense.

"You just don't want them pawing on your stuff, you cranky little shit," Chuck said with a grin. "You probably harassed the ever loving fuck out of them for taking your toys."

Tendo neither confirmed nor denied the accusation but the look of amusement on his face kinda told Chuck that he was right.

"Anyway, since your dad has commandeered my LOCCENT I figured I'd commandeer his firstborn. I'm hoping for a hostage exchange sometime around dinner."

While Chuck should feel insulted if anything he couldn't help snorting, barely holding back a laugh. Tendo had always been quite entertaining, even if Chuck normally didn't allow himself to show it. Christ, he must be bored shitless if he wasn't opposed to the idea of letting it slip now.

"Hate to burst you bubble, mate, but he's probably glad to hand me off to someone else right now."

Tendo pursed his lips and turned another page, rosary beads clacking against each other as his hand moved. Chuck wasn't sure why Tendo still had the rosary when the war was over and the Breach closed, but perhaps it was a habit or some kind of safety net not just in wartimes.

"Ah, yes. You're having-... what's it you crazy Aussies call it? A blue?"

Chuck snorted.

"Yeah, we're having a bit of an argument," Chuck replied. Not that anyone was surprised. When weren't they fighting?

"It shows. He gets extra snappy whenever you two don't talk to each other." Tendo paused before adding, "Well, less than usual."

Chuck's eyes narrowed.

"If you're here as some kind of mediator you can forget about it, Elvis."

Tendo was the one who snorted this time, lowering his magazine to deliver a raised eyebrow and a look that left Chuck feeling surprisingly like a reprimanded little boy. He bristled but Tendo was the one who managed to speak up first.

"While I prefer my workplace when it's not invaded by your dad on the warpath not everything is about you, little Hansen." Tendo chuckled. "Besides, I wouldn't get between the two of you – good intentions or not – if you so paid me to do it. I've worked with you both and I know what's good for me. Meddling in the Hansen family business is definitely not one of those things."

Well, Chuck had to give him that.

It still didn't quite sound reasonable that Tendo would come to Chuck's sickroom of all places when he was kicked out of LOCCENT, but a tiny part of him was glad for the company, especially since it wasn't Herc. He would even prefer Becket over his dad but he and Mako were still two days out.

Chuck and Tendo had never quite talked or acted like anything but two professionals going about their separate tasks, but Chuck found that he had nothing against the bloke. It was kind of nice how he didn't treat Chuck like something fragile just because he was stuck in a hospital bed with his leg hooked to the ceiling and still fading bruises and healing scars mottling his skin.

"Shouldn't you be with Alison and your kid?" Chuck asked after another couple of beats. He admitted that he had to think for a second before he remembered the name of Tendo's wife and he had no idea if the little sprog was a boy or a girl, but he knew Tendo had one.

Tendo seemed amused by the change of subject.

"When the dismantling of the command centre is done I'm out. So in a couple of days. I wanted to stick around to say goodbye to Mako and Raleigh too."

Chuck felt suddenly heavy, as if something was pushing him down onto the mattress.

"Everyone's leaving now, aren't they?" he asked, more quietly than he was comfortable with.

Tendo looked up and smiled.

"Yeah, they are," he agreed with a nod. "We're done, kid. The war is over. We won. The 'dome will be functional for another two months maybe but LOCCENT is being dismantled, the science division will move next month and after that, well... it's just closing it down left, I guess."

Chuck had to bite down on the lost, whimpering question _but what about me?_

He wouldn't be up and about in just two months. According to the docs he wasn't even halfway through healing the broken bones in his leg and knee and he'd need months of physical therapy. What was going to happen to him? Were they going to ship him off somewhere else? Was his dad going to come with him or did he have to be where the remnants of the PPDC were?

Chuck didn't realise that he had been staring at nothing, clenching the sheets of his bed, until Tendo called for his attention.

"But if it makes you feel any better you dad is kind of looking like he's intending to squat here if they try to make him ship out any earlier than he's comfortable with, the UN and PPDC be damned."

It was difficult but Chuck managed to force some semblance of a smile.

"He would, too."

Tendo nodded seriously.

"He definitely would."

Chuck was struggling to breathe while simultaneously not letting Tendo see just how out of balance he felt. He had no idea what would happen to him. He was pretty sure that the PPDC would fund his recovery and give him a nice pension of some sort – they fucking owed him that – but the exact location where his physical therapy would take place had not been something Chuck had considered. But he could obviously not stay at the Shatterdome.

He nearly jumped when Tendo tossed a magazine onto Chuck's chest – one of the few parts of him that wasn't gravely injured somehow – and gave the other man a confused look, as if he had no idea what a magazine was for.

"I brought a couple and since I'm such a nice guy I know how to share my reading material," Tendo explained with a shrug. Chuck looked down at it – some kind of magazine about technological developments or whatever. He raised an eyebrow.

"It's two years old," he pointed out.

"Wartimes, kiddo. You take what you get," Tendo shot back, seemingly more focused on his reading.

Chuck exhaled slowly before flipping the magazine around and opening it.

"Yeah, I guess you're right..."

The letters in front of him were a bit blurry but after a couple of blinks Chuck could read just fine, propping the magazine up rather gingerly to avoid twisting his right wrist in some uncomfortable way.

"You'll pull through, baby Hansen." Tendo's voice was quiet, almost to the point where Chuck could pretend that he didn't even hear it in the first place. "You'll see."

Chuck didn't answer but he was pretty sure that he could hear something crack from how hard he was clenching his jaws together. It became impossible to read the words on the glossy page.

Fucking hell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to point out that Chuck is very angry, hurt and confused, which is why he uses words such as cripple and invalid when referring to himself - I wish he wouldn't but there you go. It will change over time but right now he's emotionally vulnerable, dealing with heavy trauma, and he's going to deteriorate some more before being able to claw his way back up again. Sooo yeah. This is going to hurt, at least for another chapter or two.
> 
> [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) beta'ed as usual - fighting a noble battle against tears while doing so.


	3. Rift

 

* * *

 

Time seemed to crawl by for Chuck. He had the telly to distract him and the magazines Tendo was kind enough to leave but Chuck could only veg out for so long before he started getting antsy. He had been in that hospital bed for four weeks. Sure, he hadn't been awake for two of those weeks but that was still a lot of lying around doing fuck all.

One of his few past times besides the telly and reading was watching people pass by outside his room. There was a wide window overlooking the corridor – to observe the patients inside the rooms, he reckoned – and while the view was just as bland as the walls surrounding him at least there were people out there.

But they had started decreasing in number as the days passed. When Chuck thought about it he realised that there had been less and less over what had to be the last week or so, probably on accounts of them heading home to their families. Two of his docs had bowed out the previous day, leaving only the one who would oversee his recovery from then on. They were all leaving. And Chuck could do nothing but watch, feeling strangely forgotten.

He was stuck.

He and Herc still hadn't reconciled. Neither of them knew where to begin and neither of them wanted to seem weak. So they didn't even try. His dad still visited but he seemed to prefer dropping by several times a day to check up rather than stay for any longer period of time, as if that meant that they would feel less awkward in each other's presence. It didn't exactly _work_ , but Chuck didn't bother voicing his opinion on the matter.

He was beginning to find that most things were too much of a hassle and he just didn't feel like getting angry or annoyed anymore. There was no use.

Chuck started keeping the telly off and preferred to just stare at whatever spot he found interesting at the time. Minutes and hours slipped by that way and it was strangely quiet. Peaceful. He couldn't say if he liked it exactly because he seemed to zone out most of the time, brought back only when someone stepped into his room either to give him meds or if his dad was coming for one of his short visits.

Chuck's limbs felt heavy and lethargic and he didn't even manage to muster up some enthusiasm when his doc decided that they could unhook his leg. It was still in a cast and would need a lot of time before it was fully healed but at least he got more moveability, she said.

He didn't think it mattered all that much. It wasn't like he could use it anyway.

But his ribs were healing on schedule, his sprain was barely noticeable, the skull fracture was doing just fine, there were no complications with his jumbled insides, no infection and the bruises were all but gone. Some scars remained but he didn't much care about those. He'd always had scars so a couple more didn't make much of a difference. He could admit that the gap in his teeth was somewhat distracting, but he figured he could get that fixed eventually.

All in all he knew that he was getting better but he couldn't find the motivation to care.

They still didn't allow him to see Max.

Chuck got so used to spending most of his time alone that he was surprised when he caught a movement in the corner of his eye and looked up, only to see Mori passing by outside. He wondered where she could be heading and actually stiffened when she caught his eye through the glass separating them and nodded politely.

He wasn't sure what to do when she stopped and knocked on his door, obviously asking if she could come inside. Chuck could still see her so instead of answering verbally he just waved for her to go ahead, even if he had no idea if he really wanted her to.

Chuck wasn't going to lie – he had not expected Mako to come by to visit the day after she and Becket returned. He hadn't thought that she would visit at all, to tell the truth, and he couldn't quite figure out why she would. They hadn't exactly parted on good terms last time and he wasn't sure if he would be ready to squeeze out an apology either.

That left him observing her a little awkwardly as she walked across the room and took a seat on the chair next to his bed, her movements controlled and precise. There was a certain stiffness to her shoulders though that hadn't been there before, something in the way she held and angled her head. Grief, Chuck guessed. She was mourning her adoptive father.

She smiled, that small, almost shy smile of hers that Chuck had always found a little meek but still cute. Not that he would ever admit that out loud.

"Max misses you."

Chuck had to hold his breath for a second to keep himself from flinching. He breathed out slowly, nodding tiredly.

"Yeah, I bet he does."

Chuck didn't want to talk about his dog. Not when he couldn't see him. It was like a physical ache by then and it hurt in ways Chuck couldn't even begin to explain. Ever since he got him he had never been separated from Max for this long, not when on missions or other times when he had been hospitalised. At this point he was almost willing to bet that the doc was keeping Max away from him out of spite. How much more of a potential threat to Chuck's immune system could Max be? All Chuck's human visitors could come and go without getting hosed down or strip searched. A dog couldn't be that bad.

Chuck cleared his throat.

"How did the victory tour go?" He congratulated himself on managing to sound civil.

He wasn't jealous or angry that Becket and Mori got all the time in the spotlight – he honestly wasn't – but it had felt pretty fucking insulting to be left behind. He knew he couldn't have come, not with his injuries, but that was the problem, wasn't it?

What he wouldn't give to be out of this fucking bed.

"It went well." She nodded softly and Chuck wondered, not for the first time, how someone so strong could seem so docile at first glance. Chuck couldn't deny that she was strong. Maybe, if things had been different, they could have gotten to know each other as friends and not just awkward acquaintances since childhood.

He might actually have liked that.

"We wish you could have been there, with us."

Chuck flinched, blinking stupidly when he realised that she was talking to him.

"Huh? We who?"

A small tilt of her head, as if she couldn't quite understand why he would ask that.

"Raleigh and I."

Hearing her pronounce Raleigh's name was strangely adorable and the genuine, unconditional fondness in her voice was enough to make Chuck feel a little intrusive, as if he shouldn't be listening in on something that private. He hadn't really thought of it before but it kinda would make sense if there was more between those two than just the co-piloting.

He pushed the thought aside before it really took hold.

"I seriously doubt that," he replied with a snort.

She blinked, once, her gaze firm and questioning, as if she wanted him to elaborate. Chuck squirmed. It was such a long time since he had had any kind of normal conversation with her that he had forgotten how she handled his bluntness. Usually she did so by calling him out on it, something that made him very uncomfortable since it forced him to actually defend his rudeness – which was pretty fucking hard to do most of the time.

"I just meant that we're not exactly friends," he managed eventually. "You had no reason to want me there."

She smiled, tentative but still soft and sweet.

"I respect you, as a Ranger and fellow pilot," she replied. "I wish you could have been with us."

Chuck stared at her, completely gobsmacked. She respected him? Since when? He had always thought she considered him to be a brat just like everyone else did. Sure, she was just a couple of months older but as far as maturity went Chuck knew that she had several years on him.

"You have accomplished many things. Despite your... arrogance you are a skilled pilot. One of the best – the youngest ever to enlist. And you were with us, at the Breach. Without you we would not have succeeded."

Why was she telling him all of this? They didn't know each other well enough to start having emotional heart-to-hearts. A cold, crushing chill spread through his chest when he realised that she might be pitying him. As if she needed to make him feel better by reminding him that he wasn't useless, just because he was an invalid now.

Shame burned under his skin and he had to swallow down the bile that seemed to rise at the back of his throat. He wished he could kick her out but it would reveal too much.

"I want to thank you."

Chuck didn't hear what she said at first.

"What?" He couldn't help the harshness in his own voice. She didn't seem to take offense, her expression solemn now but no less firm.

"I want to thank you," she repeated dutifully. Her eyes were a little shiny when she met his gaze. Chuck frowned. "He wanted to die fighting, in a Jaeger. He wanted a warrior's death."

Chuck suddenly found it very hard to breathe. Pentecost. She was talking about Marshal Pentecost.

"I... miss him. But I know he found peace." She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, as if to gather strength. "You helped him find peace. _Arigato_."

She bowed her head in thanks and Chuck didn't know what to do. Her sincerity landed like a hot, burning lump in his chest and things he was still trying to repress were suddenly filling his throat, choking him.

He hadn't done shit. Pentecost had made the decision to sacrifice his own life for the cause and he was the one who had put in the extra effort to save Chuck. But Chuck, he hadn't done a thing to help the man who had saved his life. She had no reason to thank him.

"No, Mako, I didn't-..." It was difficult to find the words when he had to swallow down the guilt and self-loathing. He hadn't done shit. He was there but her dad wasn't and she was thanking him for it. That was so fucked up that he couldn't even begin to sort it out. "You shouldn't thank me."

Her smile was gentle and knowing.

"You were his co-pilot. You-"

"I should have done more!" Chuck almost shouted, startling Mako into silence. He gritted his teeth, forcing back the nauseating roll of guilt. "You're right, I was his co-pilot. Just for that one mission but I was his co-pilot. And I should have died in that blast with him. I should have stayed. He shouldn't have kicked me out." Chuck swallowed, blinking twice to clear the fog in his eyes. "I was meant to die with him, with my co-pilot. That's what we do. Don't fucking thank me when I didn't do shit. I was meant to die down there."

He jumped when he felt her hand land on his, small and delicate but far from weak. She squeezed his fingers, her smile trembling and eyes brimming with tears.

"No, Chuck, if you are here – if he decided to save you –, then you are meant to be alive."

He couldn't understand how she could make it sound so easy. How she could condense all of his survivor's guilt into a tight, heavy little ball and offer to carry it for him, just like that. To relieve him of it all without asking for anything in return.

He didn't know if he could – if he was in any way capable of actually forgiving himself – but she clearly held no grudge against him. She didn't see it the way he did. Mako seemed to remember that Pentecost wouldn't have survived no matter what he did, not after having stepped back inside a Jaeger, and she saw no fault in the effort then being placed on saving Chuck instead. She was practical like that. Genuine and kind like that.

Chuck sometimes wished he could be more like her.

But he also understood that it wasn't only kindness that had brought her to him. It was about closure. That was why she had come. Not to pity him – he should have known Mako would never do that – and not to blame him for what happened, but she wanted closure. She wanted to deal with this aspect of her father's death, his last minutes in life and what they had meant to her and to Chuck.

And Chuck might be an arsehole and a fucking poor excuse for a human being but he wasn't nearly heartless enough to deny her that. Not considering what she had lost.

He flipped his hand – his left, thankfully enough – and squeezed her fingers, much like she had done to his. He couldn't meet her eyes, not in a million years, but it would have to do. She seemed to understand what he was trying to say anyway.

"I mean it," she whispered, before her voice strengthened again. " _Domo arigato gozaimasu_."

Chuck cleared his throat, maintaining his composure only through sheer force of will at that point.

" _Dō itashimashite_."

His pronunciation was probably horrendous – she was the one who had taught him to say it years ago, when they were twelve and had been bored while their dads worked – but she didn't judge. If anything she seemed to appreciate the effort he put into it.

Chuck couldn't tell who was holding on the hardest but neither of them seemed to want to let go of the other's hand.

Chuck's second session with his psychiatrist was a disaster.

It wasn't just that Chuck didn't want to talk but it seemed like the bloke got really frustrated – almost offended – when he didn't seem to be able to forcibly make him. Chuck could give him points for dedication considering that he kept trying but it was really not doing him any favours when he didn't let up after Chuck spent forty minutes studiously ignoring him.

It could also be that Chuck was still vaguely out of balance after his talk with Mako the day before and really wasn't interested in baring any more of his emotions. Definitely not to a complete stranger who had the gall to look insulted when Chuck didn't immediately share his deepest, darkest, secrets.

Chuck still wasn't sure if he could forgive himself – he really felt like he should have done more during those last moments in Striker – but he couldn't deny that he felt the tiniest bit lighter knowing that Mako, who had been the one to lose the most after all, didn't begrudge him being alive.

She actually seemed happy that he was still with them.

His psychiatrist wanted to talk about all kinds of things, even going as far back as Chuck's childhood and his mum's death and _fuck no_ , that was just off limits to _everyone_.

It was when there was ten minutes left of the session that the bloke sighed, rubbed his temple and said the thing that made it clear, once and for all, that Chuck was never going to say a bloody word to the fucking tosser.

"Ranger Hansen, you must realise that recovering from an injury is both physical and psychological."

Well, he couldn't argue with that.

"So you must start trying to handle what you've been through. This won't just go away." That the bloke managed to sound both reprimanding, demeaning and exasperated at the same time grated on Chuck's nerves and made him grind his teeth. "And you'll stunt your own progress if you're not willing to discuss your trauma. At this pace you'll never make a full recovery. Do you want to remain crippled by this for the rest of your life?"

Chuck froze completely.

He couldn't breathe.

A part of Chuck – the reasonable part he only listened to on special occasions – knew that the bloke was probably just a shit psychiatrist who couldn't stand the thought of Chuck messing up his success rate, or possibly that they just weren't compatible as people. But the majority of him, the one that was struggling to figure out how to react to that question – that _word_ flung at him like an insult –, just wouldn't listen to that. He couldn't. His thoughts were spinning out of control, that one word circling over and over inside his head until he thought he would explode.

_Cripple_.

It wasn't even a conscious decision to lash out. Chuck just reacted on instinct, grabbing the first thing he could reach and tossed it at the fucking wanker. The remote practically shattered against the wall next to the psychiatrist's head, who ducked with a startled noise.

Chuck didn't stop.

A glass followed, breaking upon impact with the wall, then one of Tendo's magazines, the water pitcher – any fucking thing Chuck could reach. He chased the bloody prick out the room by tossing shit at him, spitting out the vilest, harshest curses he could think of. He didn't care if he caused a racket, he didn't care if he showed too much – the fucker was not going to get within ten feet of him ever again.

Chuck didn't stop even when two nurses came to calm him down. He was running on adrenaline, not feeling the pain in his ribs as he gestured to them to go fuck themselves, shouting profanities at the top of his lungs.

He started struggling when he saw them come at him with a syringe, probably to sedate him. There wasn't anywhere he could run, he knew that, but he couldn't stop. Suddenly he felt panicked, fear making his chest tight, his breath stuttering in and out of his lungs. He fought to keep them away and didn't stop even when he heard a familiar voice over the alarmed shouts of the nurses and the doc.

"CHUCK! That's enough!"

His dad was suddenly there, eyes hard and angry, and that just made Chuck even more frightened. He bucked against the hands Herc placed high on his shoulders, a distant part of Chuck registering that the sling was gone, whenever that had happened. But it didn't matter. A wounded, frightened sound slipped past Chuck's lips as he struggled to get away from all the hands trying to hold him down. He needed to get away. He couldn't stay.

It hurt. Everything hurt.

It was all crashing down around him.

"ENOUGH!"

Chuck froze. Perhaps it was having his dad practically in his face shouting at him or perhaps it was the sharp lash of _panic_ he heard in his dad's voice, but Chuck stilled, sucking in a deep breath. He hadn't noticed until then that he was shaking.

"Calm down! For Christ's sake, Chuck, calm down." Herc sounded tired and tense – winded – and his eyes were pinched and worried.

Chuck swallowed, unable to actually reply, but he remained as motionless as he could, trembling subtly. He held his dad's gaze, finding something to latch on to there. Some kind of security. Stability. Everyone seemed to have stilled, no one daring to speak or move.

His dad took a couple of slow, calculated breaths, the pressure of his hands on Chuck's shoulders easing but not disappearing entirely. Chuck couldn't tell if it was to hold him down or soothe him.

"What the hell happened?" his dad asked, voice carefully even, eyes still fixed on Chuck.

It was difficult to come up with an answer. Chuck wasn't entirely sure himself. He felt disoriented and drained, as if he had just stepped out after hours of fighting in a Conn-Pod. He blinked a couple of times, opening and closing his mouth until he could find some kind of words to reply with – some kind of explanation.

He went with honesty.

"I don't want to talk to that bloody psychiatrist."

His dad's expression soured, going from anxious to frustrated so fast Chuck shrunk back against his pillows.

"Bloody hell, Chuck! You can't throw a tantrum just because you don't want to do something," his dad replied, a lot harsher than he had probably intended. Chuck barely managed to hold back a flinch.

Indignation was building in his chest though. The man was a shit psychiatrist.

"I didn't-"

"No, just listen for once, alright?" his dad interrupted. "You need to talk to someone and you won't talk to me or anyone else so then it will have to be a professional. You could have seriously hurt someone today and I'm not only talking about yourself." His dad gestured towards the two nurses and Chuck's doctor, who all looked to be in various degrees of freaked out and cautious.

"But, Dad, I just don't-"

"No, Chuck. I know you hate it, I do, but you have to make an effort. You have to _try_."

Chuck bit back on all the things he could have said. How he bloody was trying already – trying not to let everything boil over and make things worse. How he hadn't wanted to get violent. How he just couldn't stand how the fucker had said it – that word –, how he had insinuated that Chuck was broken beyond repair. How maybe Chuck would be willing to make an effort if he just didn't have to do it with that fucking psychiatrist. He could try someone else.

But his dad didn't want to hear that. His dad didn't want Chuck to complicate things. He didn't want Chuck to make a scene.

And Chuck didn't want to disappoint his dad.

"Do you understand?"

Chuck fought against tears. He felt like a fucking wuss but he couldn't help it. He forced himself to nod, blinking rapidly.

"Chuck..." His dad sounded defeated, as if Chuck had disappointed him again, and he had to turn his head to avoid Herc's gaze.

He really wished he hadn't.

Outside in the corridor, on the other side of the window, stood Mako and Becket. She paused in whatever she was telling Becket when she noticed that Chuck was looking at them. Their gazes locked, hers dark with worry and something Chuck couldn't name. Becket turned to face the window, drawing Chuck's attention to him.

They were just standing there, looking in at him like he was some sideshow freak on display, pity in their eyes. Two perfect, flawless beings showing sympathy for the scarred, helpless cripple.

Chuck couldn't stand it.

He wanted to just curl up and never face the world again, never have to know how useless people thought he was. He felt something shrivel up and die as he met Becket's eyes, shame and disgust swelling in his gut when he realised just what he had to look like to Raleigh. How utterly pathetic he must seem.

So Chuck closed his eyes. He didn't want to have to see that. He didn't want Becket to see whatever was shining through in his own gaze. He just wanted to disappear. He wanted to give up.

"Chuck? You okay?"

He nodded. What else could he do?

"Yeah, Dad, I'm fine."

Lies.

He kept his eyes closed.

"You sure? Do you want a sedative?"

Tempting, since Chuck knew that it would help him sleep but he didn't like the heaviness that came with it. He shook his head.

"No, I'm fine. Just tired." He wondered if he was the only one who heard how monotone he sounded. "I just want to rest. I'm sorry. Just let me get some rest."

His dad seemed to hesitate but Chuck could hear the others leaving, probably eager to get the hell out of there. Chuck couldn't blame them.

"Are you sure you're okay?" His dad had to know that Chuck wasn't. Chuck could hear it in his voice. They might not talk all that much but they had Drifted for years – were still Ghost Drifting every now and then. His dad could tell.

Chuck looked up at Herc, pushing it all back – the vulnerability, the hopelessness, and the defeat – to lie more properly. To smooth out some of the wrinkles marring his dad's forehead.

"I'm okay."

Lies.

Chuck swallowed, forcing himself to keep going.

"I'm just tired."

Lies.

"I'll try harder."

Lies.

He didn't have it in him. He was too weak. He couldn't do it. He was going to fail. He was going to disappoint his dad.

"I'll be fine."

Lies. All fucking lies.

But they were apparently believable lies. His dad looked relieved, calmer. Chuck could stand being a liar if it made his dad feel better.

"I'm sorry," Chuck whispered, because he had to say that too. In the middle of all those lies he had to say something that was actually true, before it was too late. Before it wouldn't mean anything at all. He was so, so sorry for more than he could ever express.

His dad smiled, eyes a little glassy.

"It's alright, son, we'll get through this."

Chuck hated the fact that he would have to make a liar out of his dad as well.

Some nights Chuck had nightmares. He knew that was normal. No one could go through what he had without getting nightmares. Still, he was glad that no one saw them since he felt kind of ashamed whenever he woke up, shaking and panting from fear. Some nights he couldn't sleep at all, but those had been increasingly few since he got hospitalised, probably because he needed as much rest as he could possibly get.

So it was somewhat of a surprise that he couldn't sleep that night, no matter how tired he was. He just couldn't seem to relax enough to nod off. His thoughts were churning, spinning faster and faster until it was all just a blur he could no longer make out. He kept staring at the ceiling, long after the nurses had turned the lights off and he just couldn't bring himself to fall asleep.

His dad had lingered longer than usual after Chuck's meltdown but eventually Chuck managed to fake sleeping well enough that Herc seemed to relax. He had left shortly after that.

Chuck had no idea what Mori and Becket had done – how long they had stayed, looking in at the whole spectacle. Chuck didn't want to know.

He felt oddly hollow, lying there in his sickbed in the middle of the night, the fluorescent lights out in the hallway being the only illumination he had. Chuck didn't mind, his eyes had gotten used to it well enough over the course of the past couple of hours.

He had no idea what he was doing.

He was healing, or so the doc told him, but it didn't feel like it. He felt worse than when he had first woken up and he wasn't entirely sure how that was even possible. He should feel better. He was stronger already.

But it didn't feel like it. He felt weak. Pathetic.

_Crippled_.

Chuck swallowed, closing his eyes. He would never run again.

He knew that he could come to terms with it eventually. He had overcome worse tragedies and while he might not always have come out better or particularly gracefully he always pulled through. He was sure that he could do that here too. He had to. For his dad if nothing else.

But he didn't know how.

He had no idea what he was doing. He wanted to give up. He saw no solution or relief in sight.

He couldn't even stand on his own two feet.

Chuck opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before slowly easing himself up into a sitting position, for once not supported by the pillows behind his back. He could feel a dull ache in his ribs, even through the comforting haze of the painkillers he had been given. His left leg felt clunky in its cast. Awkward. Immovable.

_Broken_.

He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it.

Slowly, painstakingly, he started turning on the bed. Every inch hurt in some way – a jostle sending a sharp lace of pain from his ribs, a slight bump in the sheets making his leg pulse in agony – but he was nothing if not stubborn.

He had to pause when he sat on the edge, precariously balanced, almost toppling over thanks to the heavy cast, reaching well above his knee. He was breathing hard, sweat beading on his forehead from the exertion. It was pathetic. Just a little over a month and he could barely move without getting out of breath.

His arms were shaking from the effort of keeping him where he was, supporting most of his weight. His right wrist screamed in agony, still not quite healed enough to withstand that kind of abuse.

Chuck didn't care. He had to try.

He had to _know_.

It felt like an eternity before he dared to slowly ease himself forward, careful to maintain his balance. He might not have moved much in the past couple of weeks but before that he had excellent control of his body's motions – it came with the whole Jaeger pilot gig – and he sure as fuck hadn't lost that, not yet.

There was one moment when he thought that he would overbalance and fall forward but caught himself just in time, his arms braced on the edge of the bed. His heart beat loudly in his ears.

The floor was cold against his bare foot but Chuck wasn't sure if he had ever felt anything as heavenly. The simple sensation of something else than the sheets of the bed and his itchy cast was pretty fucking amazing at that point.

He knew better than to just let go of his grip on the bed. The cast was not meant to hold his weight and he had to make sure that his right leg could. There was a slight twinge and his muscles seemed to tremble as he eased down, trying to stand on his right leg alone. Chuck held his breath, arms practically going numb by then, but his knee didn't buckle.

He almost wanted to whimper when he could relax his arms, his right leg supporting him even while his left remained useless, wrapped up in its cast. But at least he could stand. That was something – some kind of progress.

It was a testament to how focused Chuck had been on his goal that he hadn't even heard the door open, nor noticed another presence until actual words were spoken.

"Uh... Chuck?"

He jumped, his fingers clutching the sheets when his surprise almost made him lose his balance. Becket made some kind of aborted move as if to catch him but he seemed to think better of it when he noticed that Chuck managed on his own. His hands remained outstretched though, palms open and angled towards Chuck, as if he was trying to calm him down – or alternatively be prepared to catch him next time he stumbled.

Chuck swallowed, his throat suddenly tight with what he knew was embarrassment and shame. There he was, barely standing upright in a flimsy hospital gown, clinging to his bed while Becket stood a couple of feet away, looking like he didn't know what the heck he had gotten himself into.

"What are you doing here, Becket?" Chuck snarled, finding comfort in hiding behind his anger. In reality his heart was beating almost painfully hard against his ribcage as he tried to figure out what to do. He hadn't planned far enough to consider how he was supposed to get back up in the bed and he refused to fumble his way through an attempt when Becket was watching.

"I was just passing by," Becket nodded towards the window, indicating the corridor outside. "I take walks when I can't sleep. And I saw you-... well..."

Becket didn't seem to know how to finish the sentence.

Chuck eyes narrowed. Becket, surprisingly, inched closer, his palms still outstretched – as if to show that he was unarmed and harmless. Chuck wasn't really sure what to feel about that.

"Should you really be out of bed?" Becket asked, more tentative than Chuck had ever heard him, as if he was talking to a frail child.

Chuck bristled.

"What's it to you, _Rah_ leigh? What I do is my business." It would have sounded more confident if he hadn't been struggling to remain on his feet. His right leg was beginning to cramp and even if he tried to pull himself up higher his arms were far too tired from all the strain he had put them through.

"Okay, we can argue about that later, but first we should probably get you back up."

"If you touch me I will fucking punch you in the face, you hear me, Becket?" Chuck snapped, glaring daggers, trying desperately to cling to whatever small amount of dignity he still had left.

Panic was clawing at him though, mingling with the frustration of this happening in front of _Becket_ of all people. Why the fuck couldn't that bloody insomniac have gone somewhere else for his nightly walk? Why did he have to see Chuck when he was like this?

"I'm just trying to help, Chuck," Becket answered carefully.

It only made things worse.

"I don't need your fucking help!" Chuck barked, but really, he could feel himself crumbling.

He was such a fucking mess. He wasn't sure how much longer he could do this. The pretending and the hiding. He could barely even stand. He was a fucking wreck, especially compared to perfect, flawless Becket just a couple of feet away. It was so unfair. Chuck was so _angry_. Why him? Hadn't he sacrificed enough already? Given enough? He had to lose his ability to run as well? His ability to fucking stand for more than a minute without aid?

Becket was beginning to look anxious – concerned even – and it was a rather interesting look on him. Chuck had never seen it directed at him before, but it only made him angrier. He didn't want pity, especially not from Becket.

"Chuck, you-"

"Piss off!" Chuck interrupted harshly. "I said I don't need your help!"

Becket looked almost pleading.

"Chuck, I think you do."

It was funny, in a way, that Chuck could later look back at that moment and know that it was those words that tipped him over the edge. That was the exact second when everything just snapped. He had probably been building up to it slowly over the past two weeks, sinking deeper into his own misery until everything was just a toxic, suffocating mess of hate, anger and self-loathing. It all came to a head at that point, with those five words, spoken with what Chuck later understood was genuine care but then took as an insult – a confirmation of what he had been trying to deny for weeks.

"NO! I fucking DON'T!" he roared, pushing up from the bed with surprising ease, his anger giving him strength. "I'm not a fucking cripple! You hear me? I don't need your help! I don't-... I'm not useless! I'm not! I'm not a cripple!" It was beginning to sound a lot like Chuck was just trying to convince himself – and failing spectacularly. He sucked in a sharp breath, nearly doubling over as his ribs protested against the rough treatment. When he picked up again his voice was near breaking. "You think you're so fucking perfect. You think you're so much better than me."

"I don't. I never-"

"SHUT UP! I know you do! All of you do. My dad, you, Mako, the doc, the nurses – every bloody one of you. You look at me and you pity me. You think I can't tell, don't you?" Chuck gasped for breath. "All you see is a worthless cripple and I'm not. I'm not. I don't-... I don't care what that bloody psychiatrist said, I'm not a cripple. I'm _not_."

Becket's expression hardened but Chuck barely took notice, too caught up in his own unravelling existence.

"What did the psychiatrist say?" There was a strange kind of edge to Becket's voice that Chuck couldn't identify. He wasn't sure if he wanted to.

Chuck could feel something burn inside of him but he couldn't say for certain what it was. All he knew was that he couldn't stop. His blood was rushing in his ears and he was swaying dangerously on his feet but he couldn't stop the words and the disgust and hate. It kept pouring out. It slipped through his fingers, no matter how hard he tried to hold it in. He couldn't push is back anymore.

"That I'll never fucking recover! But I will! I will, damnit, because I can't disappoint my dad and-... I'm not a useless cripple. I'm not. I'm not. I'm telling you I'm not-"

Chuck stumbled and Becket immediately dove forward to catch him. He had probably been waiting for it to happen sooner or later.

Chuck wasn't sure what possessed him to do it but his reaction was to take a desperate swing at Becket's face, just as promised. He blamed it partly on his own fear and partly on the fact that he was just so bloody angry with the entire world and Becket was a nice target to take it all out on.

But Chuck forgot that he wasn't in any kind of shape to be starting a fight.

Becket easily dodged the blow, even if he looked pretty fucking surprised while doing so, but it quickly morphed into alarmed panic when Chuck promptly lost his balance.

"Shit!"

Becket's arm shot out, looping around Chuck's chest, trying to pull him back in. Chuck didn't know if it was the arm across his ribs or them colliding none too gently that caused it but everything exploded into a bright flash of searing, mind-numbing pain. Chuck couldn't tell if he screamed or not. It was all just a jumble of limbs and breathtaking agony as Becket clearly fumbled to grip Chuck somewhere where it didn't hurt, trying to keep them upright.

He must have failed because Chuck felt them hit the floor and that time he knew he definitely screamed, the sound practically ripped from his throat. His head was spinning, his entire body set alight from pain, but he still felt the arm wrapped across his chest. The solid warmth against his back.

Chuck wanted to struggle – to fight – but he didn't know against what. Everything hurt. It was all pressing down on him. He couldn't run from it. It hurt.

He didn't know what to do.

It was too much.

Blinding pain. Blinding white light.

_Then I won't let you_.

Chuck broke.

He couldn't describe it in any other way.

He couldn't breathe. Something tight was pressing against his chest and his lungs didn't get any air. He tried to but each breath seemed shorter than the next and he just _couldn't breathe_. His throat was tight, aching, panic licking along his spine. He couldn't breathe.

His vision blacked out, a high-pitched ringing in his ears. It felt like everything inside him shrunk into nothingness, leaving only a thin, trembling shell. A shadow. Something broken.

It felt like he wasn't connected to his own skin.

It felt like he had ceased to exist.

But then, all of a sudden, there was something else – a pressure against his heart. A vibration against his back. Stability. Grounding.

The vibrations continued, soothing and comfortable. He felt them despite the numbness.

Chuck realised that they were words.

"-ey. Hey, come on. Not like that. Breathe with me, Chuck. Can you do that?"

The pressure on his heart was a hand. A hand Chuck was clinging to with his own, fingers stiff – locked in place – as if he wasn't capable of letting go. It was a warm hand. Chuck liked it.

He liked the voice in his ear and the solid presence against his back.

"I'll lead this time, okay? Come on, breathe with me. Just follow my lead."

He nodded. He wasn't quite sure why. The soft pushes against his back where rhythmic – hypnotising almost – and Chuck leaned back to meet them. He tried to match them.

"There you go. That's good. You're doing great, kid."

Little by little the tension in his body seemed to ease. He felt himself let go, of everything but the hand still pressing against his heart. He was still clutching that hand. The feeling in his skin returned, making it sting – as if it was suddenly hypersensitive. It made him want to squirm but couldn't find the energy to move.

"Easy now, easy... I've got you." The voice was still there, talking softly to him. "Keep breathing. You're doing great."

It didn't take long before Chuck returned enough to himself to realise that it belonged to Raleigh. And while a part of him immediately wanted to push free and break away he was far too tired for that. Everything was aching dully and his limbs were heavy and clumsy. He eyes remained closed. He kept breathing, Becket's chest pressed against his back, setting an even, calm pace that was easy to match, once you had something to go after.

He could almost feel the beat of Raleigh's heart against his spine.

He let himself embrace that for what felt like hours but was probably just a couple of minutes.

Chuck exhaled slowly, momentarily breaking pattern when he ended up holding his breath for a couple of seconds. The hand on his heart pressed a little harder, as if the sudden stillness of Chuck's chest was worrying.

"I probably shouldn't..." Chuck grimaced, his tongue disobeying him to the point that he was almost slurring. He took another breath and started over. "I probably shouldn't have tried to punch you in the face."

Raleigh's helpless chuckle sounded a little strained but it sent a tickle along Chuck's skin all the same. He could feel Raleigh's breaths against his temple.

"Yeah, probably not."

Chuck wasn't even sure if all of his limbs were intact – not considering the fall they had taken – but nothing was screaming in agony. He wasn't even sure how all of them were positioned but he couldn't bring himself to care. His attention span was severely limited.

He felt weightless. Drained.

"I'm going to... stay here, for a while," he mumbled, suddenly desperately tired. It felt like he hadn't slept in days.

"Yeah, okay," Raleigh replied easily, as if it was no big deal. Chuck knew that it was but he appreciated that Raleigh allowed him to pretend that it wasn't. "It's okay. I've got you, kid."

"Not a kid," Chuck grumbled.

Raleigh's other hand came to rest on top of Chuck's head, a warm and strangely comforting weight.

"Yeah, you are."

Chuck didn't bother to argue that time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of all the chapters in this fanfic this was the hardest one to write. This is where Chuck hits rock bottom and it hurt something terrible to go through it all. But I promise you all that it will get better, slowly but surely, after this.
> 
> And yeah, I'm a bit miffed by all the fanfics where people find their perfect therapist on their first try. That's actually fairly rare when you're dealing with things such as these since we're not always compatible as people.
> 
> And NO, Herc meant nothing bad with his actions in this chapter. He had no idea how serious things were and, to be fair, Chuck throwing a tantrum for no reason is actually something he would do. It just so happens that this time it ended up being a big misunderstanding, but I'm working on that, don't worry.
> 
> [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) is my faithful beta who seems convinced that I did all of this only to punish her.


	4. Perseverance

 

* * *

 

It was interesting how his dad and Becket seemed to think that Chuck couldn't hear every single word they were saying as they stood out in the hallway, practically shouting at each other. Well, okay, his dad did the shouting while Raleigh remained surprisingly composed.

"What the _fuck_ happened, Becket?"

Hercules Hansen was definitely not happy.

"I don't know, sir." Judging on his tone Becket was probably standing in parade rest. Chuck couldn't blame him. Becket was being interrogated about something that wasn't really his fault. Well, not entirely.

"You will have to do better than that. My injured son almost set himself back _weeks_ of recovery and you were there when it happened. He's not talking but I have no qualms about squeezing it out of you with my bare hands if I so have to."

Chuck grimaced. His dad really wouldn't. And while Chuck didn't want Becket to tell Herc about the quite frankly mortifyingly embarrassing breakdown he had had he still felt kind of bad for the bloke. Chuck's dad was stressed and overworked and clearly not in the mood for complications of any kind, least of all Becket's avoidance tactics.

Chuck couldn't help wondering who would win if it came down to a fistfight.

"I honestly don't know," Becket tried again, a little softer this time, to the point that Chuck barely even heard it. "I was just walking by and-"

"In the middle of the night?"

Chuck didn't need to see their faces – which he couldn't since they were standing out of view from the observation window – to know that his dad was scowling.

"Yes. I can't sleep sometimes. So I take walks."

Chuck had been told the same and there was no real reason to doubt it. Most soldiers found themselves having trouble sleeping at least once in their lives, weighted down by what they had seen and done. Raleigh Becket was carrying more than most.

"To the infirmary?" Herc sounded dubious at best and overprotective at worst. Chuck rolled his eyes. He sure hoped everyone realised just where he had gotten his temper from. His dad was just better at hiding it in everyday situations.

"It varies where I go." Chuck could imagine Raleigh shrugging. "And I was just passing by. Trust me, sir, when I say that I don't know what happened but I'm glad I was there. He could have hurt himself much worse otherwise. And more importantly-" Becket said this more firmly, as if he actually had the balls to interrupt something Herc had been about to say "-I think you need to listen to Chuck."

Well, that was a surprise. A short, stunned silence followed.

"Come again?"

"Find him another psychiatrist."

Oh hell. Not that. Chuck didn't want his dad to know how he had whined about it like some little girl. Chuck closed his eyes, as if that would save him from the embarrassment.

Herc sighed, tired and frustrated.

"Becket, I really don't-"

"With all due respect, sir, it's not helping, is it? Chuck chased the guy out of his room by throwing things at him. As overdramatic and juvenile as your son is he probably had a reason for doing it besides being overdramatic and juvenile. I think you just have to accept the fact that you'll have to find him someone else. Maybe he'd be more willing to actually talk to them."

That was not how Chuck had expected Becket to explain things. It was almost as if he was consciously trying to avoid revealing why Chuck was so pissed at his psychiatrist – as if he understood that Chuck would want it that way. Becket obviously knew Chuck a little better than he gave him credit for. Imagine that.

"Why do I get the feeling that there's a lot you're not telling me?" Herc accused, which was actually a fairly reasonable thing for him to do. Becket _was_ keeping things from him, as was Chuck.

"Honestly? Because it's true," Becket replied bluntly, apparently fearless. Or possibly retarded. It was difficult to know with someone with that kind of brain damage. "But it's not my place to tell. You will have to take that up with Chuck. But what I will tell you, sir, is that he's not doing well."

Chuck couldn't help the flare of indignation he felt at that, no matter if it was true or not. Becket had no right making those kinds of statements, even if he had been there and seen Chuck at his weakest.

"Is that your professional assessment?"

Who knew Chuck's dad could sound so scathing?

"I think you know it too. You must have noticed."

A short silence followed, Chuck picking absently at his blanket. He knew listening in was probably stupid – it pissed him off to have his dad and Becket discuss him like he was some kind of case to be cracked – but it wasn't like he could avoid hearing it, not when they were talking that loudly.

"Just find him another therapist. That's a start," Becket continued, apparently surprisingly concerned about Chuck's continued recovery. But perhaps that was because he had been forced to step in during Chuck's breakdown, which was a little awkward for them both. Raleigh probably only wanted to make sure that he wouldn't have to again.

Chuck couldn't quite pick up on the words his dad said next, spoken much too softly for Chuck to hear. Raleigh's reply was just as low and Chuck let his head fall back against his pillows with a heavy sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

What a fucking mess.

It had been several hours since _the incident_ but he still felt drained. There was a subtle tremble in his limbs and an exhaustion in his bones that he knew was psychological, not physical. He wasn't sure what had happened – a panic attack, a flashback or some other fucked up PTSD shit – but it had rattled him up pretty good.

It had rattled Raleigh pretty good too.

Even after Chuck had fallen asleep – which he apparently had, leaning against Becket, something he had no intention of dealing with ever – they must have stayed where they were for quite a while. It had been dawn by the time Chuck had been carefully woken and helped back up into his bed, promptly falling asleep again as soon as his head had hit the pillow. He wasn't even sure who had been there during the proceedings. The only thing he could remember clearly was the warm, grounding hand on his arm or shoulder, ever present, so besides Raleigh Chuck hadn't taken notice of anyone else.

Chuck didn't want to admit it but he really had needed the support, however simple it had been. It frustrated him that it had come from Becket but it was too late to change that.

He just hoped that Becket wouldn't rub it in.

Chuck made sure to keep his eyes closed and face relaxed when he heard two sets of footsteps outside, one fading as Becket, Chuck assumed, left. A couple of seconds later the door opened but Chuck didn't have to look up to know that it was his dad.

"You're not nearly as good at faking sleep as you think you are," Herc remarked somewhat dryly.

"Good thing I'm not actually trying to fake sleep right now then," Chuck drawled lazily.

He was beyond tired. He hadn't slept much at all the previous night but he still knew better than to ignore his dad. And while Chuck was ashamed of how completely he had broken down Herc didn't know that much about it since Chuck hadn't told him and his secret was, bizarrely enough, safe with Becket. Chuck had no reason not to talk to his dad.

"You okay?"

That was a pretty stupid question. While he might have been lucky enough not to ruin anything permanently during his and Becket's little adventure the night previous Chuck had still earned himself a couple of more bruises, new aches and pains and a serious case of sleep deprivation.

He opened his eyes to give his dad a measured, deadpan look. It was answer enough.

Herc sighed, running a hand over his face. He seemed to be favouring his right arm so the dislocated shoulder was probably not quite as healed as it should have been before one usually removed the sling. But Chuck kind of understood if no one dared to inform his dad of that.

A heavy silence lingered while his dad took a seat, looking as exhausted as Chuck felt. His clothes were rumpled – as if he had slept in them or not slept at all – and there seemed to be a constant look of strained determination on his face, despite the dark circles and tired wrinkles. It was as if he was refusing to admit defeat but it was slowly wearing him down all the same. And while Chuck wanted to blame it on Herc's new responsibilities he knew that wasn't the cause for his dad's weariness.

Chuck was.

Herc tried not to give up but it showed that he was nearing his limit. He was getting desperate and Chuck wasn't sure what that would entail. Chuck wasn't sure what he could do to prevent it.

"You heard pretty much all of that, I take it?" his dad asked, more as a formality it seemed.

"Pretty much, yeah," Chuck admitted, meeting Herc's gaze.

There was a tense moment when neither of them seemed to know what would happen next. It could go in so many different directions and Chuck was man enough to admit that he was vaguely nervous.

"So is he right?" his dad asked out of the blue, elaborating when Chuck frowned in confusion. "Raleigh. About the psychiatrist. If I find you another one, will you try to be more cooperative?"

Chuck breathed in slowly, making sure to push down the almost ever-present sting of anger he felt as soon as his dad treated him like a child. Chuck knew that this was his chance to potentially fix several of his problems in one go – and possibly make things better for his dad as well.

Chuck had to talk to someone. He could admit that, as much as it frustrated him. He wasn't a fan of the whole emotions and sharing thing but this wasn't working. Suppressing things wasn't working, not when it lead to him being curled up against Raleigh fucking Becket in the middle of the night like some bloody shivering mess. Chuck would talk to someone, if only to avoid having that happen again.

So even if there was no reason for him to attempt to get cleared for active duty – since he wouldn't manage with his physical limitations anyway and nor were there any Jaegers left – he could still admit that he was derailing.

Breaking down in front of Raleigh Becket was proof enough of that.

He had to talk to someone but it would never be with the son of a bitch he had been assigned so far. Admitting that was not a defeat. Herc had asked and all Chuck had to do was answer honestly.

He could do that.

"Yeah," he nodded, holding his dad's gaze to let him know that he meant it. "I will. I promise."

The weak but still noticeable flicker of relief and hope in his dad's eyes felt like a punch to the gut. Was Chuck really that far gone, that Herc had to look like that when he promised to make an effort to get better? Had it showed that much, just how bad Chuck felt? How close he was to breaking?

"Good. That's good," his dad mumbled, almost to himself – as if he needed the reassurance.

Chuck swallowed, something inside him twisting painfully. He really didn't want to put his dad through this. Chuck hated how things had been since his mum died and his anger and frustration towards Herc might be one of his major driving forces in life but he still loved the bloody drongo. He felt no joy in seeing his old man suffer. That wasn't what he wanted.

"Oi, Dad..." Chuck waved feebly to get his dad's attention, smiling faintly when he eventually looked up. Chuck had to swallow around the lump in his throat but he was determined to do this – and he was going to fucking mean it as well. "I'm-..."

Fuck, it was a lot harder than people made it out to be.

He took a deep breath, glancing down at his blanket a little nervously before looking back up at his dad, feeling all of seven years old.

"I'm sorry, Dad. For... a lot of things."

Herc cracked a small, aching smile.

"Not everything?"

Chuck snorted, leaning his head back against his pillow, smiling back.

"Nah, you're not completely off the hook yet, old man. I like to keep you on your toes."

His dad chuckled softly before he sighed, closing his eyes for a brief second.

"So am I," Herc eventually replied. It was all so painfully awkward that Chuck wanted to say something snarky just to ruin it but knew he couldn't, not this time. "I'm sorry too, Chuck."

Well, good to know it was mutual.

Something else was weighting on Chuck though. He knew that he didn't have to bring it up – his dad didn't even know about it – but it made Chuck feel guilty all the same. He had promised to make an effort. He didn't want to end up sprawled on the floor again, hyperventilating through the panic.

He couldn't give up. Not yet. He'd try at least one more time, for his dad. He could do it.

"Dad, it's going to be okay." Chuck had to take a second just to erase every single trace of a lie in those words. It was the truth. He would make sure that it was the truth. "I'm going to be okay."

Chuck wasn't sure if he had ever seen his dad deflate like he did then. It was barely noticeable to someone who didn't know him but Chuck did. They had Drifted for years and he knew Herc inside and out. Chuck couldn't always _understand_ him, but he definitely knew him.

It looked almost like Herc suddenly dared to breathe again and the relief had him slumping slightly in his chair, utterly exhausted.

"Yeah." His dad nodded, his smile faint but growing stronger. "Yeah, I know you will."

Strange how it sounded a bit easier to accomplish all of a sudden.

Of all the things Chuck had expected to see in his life Raleigh Becket sneaking around outside his hospital room was not one of them. There was no other word for what the daft dork was up to, even if Chuck couldn't for the life of him understand what exactly 'it' was.

He had just been lying there in his bed, yawning out of boredom while wondering if sleep might actually be a more productive waste of his time considering the late hour, when Becket had appeared on the other side of the window separating Chuck's room and the hallway. Only he seemed more focused on looking over his shoulder and glancing around, as if he didn't want to get caught doing something he shouldn't.

Weird even for Raleigh, in other words.

Chuck couldn't help frowning. He hadn't expected to see Becket so soon after _the incident_ the previous night, and wasn't entirely sure if he _wanted_ to either. Chuck still felt incredibly embarrassed and slightly out of balance. How the hell did you face the guy you quite literally had a nervous breakdown on? The only way it could have been worse was if Chuck had been crying when it went down, but as far as he remembered that had not been the case.

As soon as Becket opened the door Chuck couldn't help calling out.

"Oi, Ray, what the fuck-"

The sound of claws skittering furiously across the hard floor made Chuck stop short, sucking in a sharp breath when Max came barrelling into the room with a loud, excited bark, running as fast as his short legs allowed.

"Max!" Chuck was reaching down towards Max before his dog even made it to the bed, completely ignoring the sharp stab from his injured ribs.

"Sssh!" Raleigh hissed as he quickly shut the door, the dropped leash trailing along the floor after the happily wagging bulldog. "Keep it down!"

Chuck was too focused on trying to pet his dog to listen, but even when Max stood on his hind legs bracing against the side of the bed he didn't seem to reach very far. Chuck was just about to snarl a frustrated curse when Raleigh was suddenly there, lifting a squirming Max up onto Chuck's bed.

And just like that Chuck had his arms full of whining, panting and practically vibrating bulldog. Max didn't seem to know what to do with himself, wiggling around in Chuck's lap – which admittedly hurt like a bitch what with Chuck's ribs and all – while trying to lick every inch of Chuck's face in a desperate attempt to find an outlet for how happy he was.

Despite the drool, the foul breath and the sharps jabs of pain whenever Max accidentally jarred one of Chuck's ribs he couldn't do anything else but wrap his arms around the stupid critter and bury his face against the side of Max's head. His chest hurt from the happiness and relief growing inside him, chuckling in a way that Chuck could admit was closer to a choked sob than anything else.

"God I missed you," he whispered softly, squeezing his eyes shut and just breathing in, struggling to swallow around the tightness in his throat.

Max whined while trying to lick Chuck's ear but ended up drooling all over Chuck's hair instead. Chuck didn't care. Max didn't care either, grumbling and whimpering and pushing against Chuck, as if he still wasn't close enough.

Chuck didn't care what Becket was up to, he just kept hugging his dog, partly because he was closer to start bawling than he wanted to admit and he would rather chew off his own arm than do that in front of Raleigh fucking Becket.

It wasn't until Chuck felt relatively composed again that he leaned back a little, scratching Max's ear before kissing the top of his head. Max settled down somewhat, the most urgent excitement having been taken care of, and Chuck scooted over just a tiny bit so that Max could curl up against him, head pillowed on Chuck's right side – the one that thankfully didn't hurt. Max was like a warm, comforting weigh against the side of Chuck's chest and he couldn't help smiling fondly at him, nuzzling against his head like he used to when they were both much younger. Max hummed in delight.

"You're such a good boy. Aren't you, you gorgeous bastard?"

A quiet, amused snort from the chair next to Chuck's bed.

"Shut up, _Rah_ leigh. I'd rather kiss him than you."

"Duly noted," Becket replied, his smile evident in his voice. Chuck couldn't quite bring himself to look at him, keeping his eyes on Max instead.

"My dad is going to kill you, you know," Chuck said a little matter of factly.

"If he finds out then yeah, probably. Right now he thinks Mako is taking Max for his evening walk."

Chuck snorted, throwing a quick glance in Becket's direction.

"Is that your plan? Blame it on Mako?"

"Nah, she's in on it. And Herc is less likely to hurt her than me." Raleigh chuckled. "But we're hoping to sneak him back before anyone notices so please don't catch an infection or fleas or something, alright?"

"Oi! My dog does not have fleas!" Chuck barked with a glare, his hand resting on top of Max's head. Raleigh just grinned, the bastard, looking relaxed and at ease, dressed in one of those ugly, lumpy jumpers of his. But he seemed to at least have figured out the proper way to work a belt by then, so there was still some hope in the world.

"So did you and your dad talk?"

That came out of the left field and Chuck had to pause a moment to catch up. He frowned, scratching Max's ear.

"What's it to you, Ray?"

"It's Raleigh, and I figured that I have a right to ask, considering how I stuck my neck out for you and all." Becket's expression turned serious, his smile completely gone. "I don't know why you won't tell your dad the real reason you chased that guy out. He would understand, you know."

"Oh piss off," Chuck muttered, definitely not in the mood to discuss _that_ with Becket of all people.

There was a heavy, disappointed sigh and Chuck rolled his eyes.

"Jesus fucking _Christ_ you are impossible," he groaned. "We talked, alright? The wanker is fired. I'll get another therapist or psychiatrist or whatever. You happy now?"

Raleigh, the bloody dork, smiled widely and nodded like he was the proudest little puppy in the whole world. Chuck wanted to hate him for it but it was, quite frankly, impossible. To cover up the fact that Raleigh might be growing on him Chuck made sure to scowl.

"You're such a fucking stickybeak."

"I'm just going to assume that's an insult of some kind," Raleigh replied, completely unfazed, leaning back in his chair with a nonchalant tilt to his head. Chuck should have bristled but didn't.

"And a fruit loop."

Raleigh snorted on a laugh.

"Okay, that has got to be the cutest insult I've ever had thrown at me. It's supposed to be an insult, right?"

"Yeah, it is." And for some godforsaken reason Chuck found that he was smiling. He couldn't even get away with calling it a sneer. It was a bloody smile. A real, happy and genuine smile.

Chuck wondered when he had done that the last time. There hadn't been a lot to smile about lately.

"You have dimples." It was said so casually that Chuck couldn't help blinking, staring at Raleigh like he had grown a second head. What the fuck? Becket grinned. "But I guess it would have been difficult for me to know that considering how often you smile."

Chuck flipped him off, but he could feel the tips of his ears burn. Stupid, dorky Becket.

"Hey, catch."

Unlike the first time Chuck had heard those words he didn't have time to catch the brightly coloured piece of candy before it landed on his chest. Max immediately inched closer, wanting to take a sniff. Chuck snatched it up before his dog had time to start attempting to lick it, plastic wrapper or not, giving Becket a sideway glance.

"You and your bloody lollies."

Chuck still wasn't sure where the bloke kept them or how he managed to pull them out so quickly.

Becket was smiling smugly while unwrapping his own candy, looking like he had every intention of sticking around. Chuck wanted to say that he wasn't welcome but that would have been a lie and Becket would probably take Max with him if he left. So Chuck chose to be strategic about it and swallow down the instinctive insults and barbs he almost drawled on pure instinct.

Chuck looked down at the piece of candy in his hand and felt himself hesitate. He swallowed before handing it back to Raleigh.

"I don't like the yellow ones."

There was only a slight pause before Becket accepted it. Chuck was careful not to look at him.

Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised to soon find another piece of candy being sneaked into his palm and he couldn't help giving some sort of ugly half snort, half chuckle at Raleigh's insistence.

"The red ones are good. Taste like strawberries."

Chuck shook his head before giving Raleigh a patient smile.

"I don't remember what strawberries taste like," Chuck informed him. "Haven't had any since I was a kid. Wartimes, you know."

For a moment it looked like Chuck had kicked Becket's puppy – and perhaps he had – before the casual, relaxed grin was back.

"Then just trust me when I say that they do."

Chuck knew that there was no use arguing so he simply rolled his eyes and resigned himself to being fed lollies for no apparent reason. It did taste nice though, Chuck could admit that. Strawberry was pretty okay, but he preferred apple so far.

Max sighed happily, closing his eyes again, clearly enjoying having Chuck as his pillow. Chuck stroked his thumb over his bulldog's head, feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks. Becket was munching through his lollies but Chuck decided not to complain about the loud, obnoxious crunches, savouring his own candy with a little more dignity.

"We were there, you know."

Chuck looked up at Raleigh's sudden words, frowning in confusion. The look on Becket's face was mildly unsettling – thoughtful, concerned and hesitant –, as if he knew that he was talking about something Chuck wouldn't like.

Raleigh met his eyes.

"After the blast. I don't know how much you remember."

Chuck felt something lodge in his throat and he quickly tore his gaze away, staring down at his blankets instead. Fucking Becket. Why was he so obsessed about _talking_ about things? Chuck was pretty certain that he hadn't given an indication that he wanted to. And sure, Chuck remembered bits and pieces but he hadn't really wanted to study it closer. He was entirely comfortable _not_ knowing what had gone down.

Becket carried on, as if he couldn't see that Chuck was twisting awkwardly.

"LOCCENT couldn't pick up the signal from your escape pod thanks to all the damage done to it. Mako was the one who spotted it." There was a slight smile on Raleigh's lips, but it looked sad – aching – as if it wasn't a particularly fond memory for him either. "The entire left side was buckled and we had to pry it open. We weren't sure what we would find. We thought for sure that, well..."

Chuck rubbed a hand over his mouth, the other holding on to Max. Becket leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, staring down at the floor.

"It looked pretty bad but it wasn't until I noticed that you weren't breathing that we realised exactly how bad." Raleigh ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up. "We thought you were already dead, until Mako managed to find your pulse."

Chuck gritted his teeth.

"Is there a point to this?" he asked acidly.

Raleigh gave him that painful smile again, making something uneasy grow in Chuck's chest.

"I'm getting there." A slight pause. "I asked Mako but she said that she never once thought that it would be anyone but you inside that pod. She told me she _hoped_ it was you."

Chuck froze, his heart almost stuttering to a stop.

"I think as much as she loves-... loved the Marshal she knew it wouldn't be him, simply because she knew _him_. She knew he was ready to die and even if it hurt she had accepted it. If she wanted someone to come out of that blast alive it was you, Chuck."

There was nothing Chuck could say to that. He couldn't even meet Becket's eyes. How on earth could the bloke even find the words to express things like that?

"I can't tell you what I was thinking since I was more focused on just-... getting to whoever was inside that pod. But when I saw it was you?" Raleigh sought his gaze but Chuck avoided it like a bloody coward. "I was relieved. I was so fucking relieved because despite our differences and the fact that you're an arrogant, annoying brat no one deserves to die that young. I was happy it was you."

Chuck closed his eyes, jaws clenching. His heart was beating fast and loud, pushing against his ribs.

"So?" he managed to croak after a couple of seconds.

"So I guess I just wanted you to know." Raleigh made no attempt to touch him or demand that Chuck faced him. "If your dad isn't enough then remember that. Mako and I are glad that you're still here, no matter what shape you happen to be in."

Chuck placed a hand over his eyes before letting it run into his hair.

"That's easy for you to say," he bit out.

"No, it isn't, because I might be one of the few who knows what it's like."

That gave Chuck pause and after a slow breath he turned his head, meeting Raleigh's gaze. He looked surprisingly sober, if a bit sombre, still leaning forward, arms braced on his knees. He was fiddling with the empty candy wrapper and Chuck stared at Raleigh's twisting fingers for a couple of seconds, distracted by the simplicity of the movement.

"When my co-pilot died I lost a part of myself. And I'm not even talking about Yancy being my brother even if that-... well, will never stop hurting either." Becket shook his head. "It's just... something's different. I can't put my finger on it – perhaps it's brain damage, perhaps it's a permanent tear in the Drift – but I'm not the same. Does it compare to your leg? Probably not. But I know what it's like, coming back and feeling like you shouldn't have – like it would have been better if you had just stayed away." The smile on his lips was wry. "Stepping back inside a Jaeger only made it worse."

Chuck didn't know what to reply and therefore didn't. Becket sighed.

"It doesn't make it easier or better, I know, but I thought you should know." Becket shrugged but it looked heavy, as if something was weighting on his shoulders. "And, just for the record: there are a lot of things I'd call you long before I ever called you a cripple."

It was impossible not to flinch, even if it hadn't been said as an insult. Chuck wasn't entirely sure what the look he gave Becket must have conveyed but it earned him in a small smile.

"You don't believe me? Alright, I've already called you arrogant and annoying so let's continue with obnoxious, loud, overdramatic, rude-"

"Oh for the love of-"

"-impossible, frustrating, childish, contradictory-"

"Oi, I get it! Quit yabbering!"

"-surprisingly complex, juvenile, stubborn, and, I gotta admit, the dimples are pretty cute – even if I never thought that would be a word I'd associate with you-"

"If I could kick you right now I would," Chuck threatened menacingly, but Becket was seated on his left and Chuck had very little moveability in that leg. He did shut up though, thank God.

Becket leaned back in his chair, looking particularly pleased with himself in a way that made Chuck toss his empty candy wrapper at him. Too bad it wasn't much of a weapon and only made Raleigh splutter out a laugh rather than feel intimidated.

Chuck struggled not to smile while Raleigh grinned, eyes bright and happy.

"All I'm saying is that if you're worried about what people will think of your flaws you should be working on your temper and manners instead of worrying about your leg. You're too much of an asshole for anyone to really care about _that_ – not when there's so much else about you to dislike."

"Geez, mate, thanks a lot," Chuck drawled, but in a bizarre kind of way it actually made him feel better. Becket might actually have a point – not that Chuck would ever admit that out loud – and it was nice that he wasn't sugar coating it. Chuck could take it.

Raleigh just kept grinning.

A silence settled between them and for some reason it was a lot less awkward than Chuck had imagined it would be. Perhaps it helped to have Max snoring next to him or the fact that Becket wasn't doing anything particularly annoying at the time. He had even stopped chewing on those bloody lollies.

Chuck kind of liked it.

It felt peaceful. Uncomplicated, somehow.

He declined more candies and just relaxed against his pillows, fingers wandering over Max's head without any real kind of aim. Max's heavy, grumbling snores were familiar and comforting and for the first time in weeks Chuck felt almost normal. Even with his leg in a cast, several added scars and the sneaking aches and pain the painkillers didn't quite manage to battle he felt at ease. Almost content.

He could fall asleep this way.

The thought had barely crossed his mind before Raleigh yawned, pushing himself to his feet.

"I think Max and I better go," Becket said, stretching his arms over his head, his ugly jumper riding up as he did. Chuck couldn't help that he grabbed Max's collar, as if to keep Becket from taking him away. Raleigh smiled, apologetic and kind. "He needs an actual evening walk, not just a fake one, and be back before your dad notices."

Chuck knew Becket was right, he did, but that didn't mean that he had to be happy about it. He sighed, scratching Max's ear before kissing the top of his head again.

"Come on, you lazy bum." Max grumbled when Chuck patted his side, trying to rouse him. "You need your walkabout and I'm sure Ray here will let you come back soon."

Both of them looked up – Max with a slight whine – and Raleigh seemed unable to decide whose puppy eyes were the worst. Not that Chuck was trying to do them but Becket seemed swayed by whatever expression was on his face none the less.

"I can try. But I make no promises." He held his hands up in surrender but there was a slight smile on his lips. "And it's Raleigh."

"Fine. Raleigh will have you back with me in no time," Chuck said to Max, for once making sure to pronounce the name correctly. He pretended not to see Becket's strangely delighted grin.

Becket rounded the bed to stand on the right side, preparing to lift Max off again. Max sighed and butted against Chuck's hand, earning himself a couple of extra scratches before he was back down on the floor, Raleigh holding the leash in his hand. Chuck tried not to acknowledge the way his chest seemed to constrict as soon Max was out of his reach.

Becket backed up a couple of steps, Max following reluctantly when there was a gentle tug on his leash. Chuck forced himself not to stare at his dog leaving.

It was when they had reached the door that Raleigh hesitated. He looked back at Chuck, his expression unsmiling but still earnest.

"I kind of lied, by the way," Becket admitted, but he didn't look particularly guilty. If anything he seemed determined and perhaps even a little bit challenging, as if he was prepared to defend his actions if Chuck decided to question them. "I wasn't just passing by last night. I couldn't sleep, that bit was true, and since I couldn't I figured I'd see how you were doing. I came here on purpose."

Chuck wasn't sure how to react so he fell back on anger, as he most often did.

"What the fuck for, _Ray_?"

Becket's smile was crooked with an underlying sadness.

"Because of the way you looked yesterday, after you chased your psychiatrist off. I know what giving up looks like, Chuck. I saw it in the mirror for over five years."

It stung, it really did, but he couldn't say that Becket was wrong either. At that time Chuck really had been prepared to give up. He wasn't sure what had changed since then but today felt better. Today he had decided that he didn't want to end up like that and if there was one thing to be said about Chuck – besides his arrogance and rudeness – it was that he was stubborn to a fault.

He could do this.

"I'm not you," Chuck snapped defensively.

"I know you're not – I can tell that you're not," Becket agreed.

"Then why the fuck did you bring it up?"

Raleigh's smile grew warmer.

"I just thought you should know that I'm relieved that you don't look the least bit like that today." Becket glanced down at Max before looking up at Chuck again. "I don't know what changed but I'm glad it did. It took me five years and an insistent Marshal to reach that stage but you did it overnight. I don't think you understand how exceptional that is."

Chuck didn't. He was totally speechless.

Raleigh grinned.

"Just don't let it get to your head."

And with that Becket gave a short nod before walking out the door, Max trailing behind him.

It wasn't until they were long gone that Chuck let his head fall back against his pillow, blinking a couple of times to shrug off his lingering surprise. A smile started spreading on his lips.

"Dork," he mumbled to no one in particular and tried to deny the fondness in his voice.

Stupid Raleigh fucking Becket and his heartfelt, genuine puppy demeanour.

A grown man shouldn't be allowed to be that adorable.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that! Chuck and Herc actually CAN talk. Well, kinda. It's progress anyway!
> 
> And candies and Max and Raleigh and... yeah. Things are looking up. But there's still a long way to go! This is tagged slow burn for a reason xD
> 
> Major thanks to my beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) for sticking with me through thick and thin.


	5. Healing

 

* * *

 

Even if Chuck had made a conscious decision to get better it was an uphill struggle. He hadn't expected anything less but it annoyed him all the same.

Once he seemed to emerge from the gloomy pit of self-loathing he had flung himself into he started realising exactly how bored he was. And antsy. His muscles seemed to twitch and itch from inactivity and since he couldn't get out of bed there wasn't much he could do about it except complain. And while he did do that sometimes – he was only human – he mostly tried not to. If only because it made his dad call him childish when he whined and Chuck still had his pride, damnit.

Becket seemed to find it amusing the times he visited – which happened more and more often – and Chuck usually responded by spewing insults at him. Becket took it all in a stride though, mostly because Chuck would never say anything _truly_ nasty since Raleigh – sometimes accompanied by Mako – was the one who sneaked Max into Chuck's hospital room as often as he could. It would be stupid to give him a reason to stop coming by.

They didn't have a lot to talk about though so most of the times they either watched telly in silence or bickered about pretty much everything they could think of. It wasn't like Chuck _tried_ to piss Becket off – not intentionally – but it seemed like they were incapable of civil conversations without either of them getting snarky somehow. It was tentative bickering though, as if they didn't want to risk saying something potentially harmful. Chuck was a bit surprised by his own reluctance to be an arse for once.

He had never cared about that before.

Whenever Mako was around Chuck was even more careful, simply because she was so calm and composed and he didn't want to come off as immature in comparison. The fact that she and Becket kept giving each other sweet, tender looks and sharing private smiles only helped in making Chuck distance himself from them. He wasn't jealous per se – or perhaps he was, because he had never had what they had – but it was slowly driving him insane all the same. They were so cute it made his teeth ache. He barely resisted the urge to tell them to get a room.

Chuck actually felt a clench of loss when Tendo came to say goodbye before leaving, mostly because Chuck knew that they would probably never see each other again. They had no reason to keep in touch and not much in common to discuss if they actually _did_ meet again. He still accepted the pile of magazines and stray books Tendo quite literally dumped on him with the explanation that he didn't have room for them in his bags. Chuck knew that was a lie but decided not to call Tendo out on it. He welcomed anything that could keep his boredom at bay.

Not to mention that it was actually kind of fun to read through all that stuff – mostly scientific articles about Jaeger tech, technology in general and several adjacent subjects – and then try to discuss it with Raleigh. Chuck knew that Becket probably didn't understand half of what was coming out of Chuck's mouth but he still nodded at the appropriate times and asked curious, if a bit stupid, questions. But there was always an underlying blankness in his eyes, like a dumb dog trying but failing to keep up.

Chuck had never found stupidity adorable until then, but perhaps it was aided by the fact that despite his obvious lack of understanding Raleigh listened faithfully to everything Chuck said. He even seemed a little amazed by Chuck's ability to soak up the knowledge in those books and magazines seemingly without effort.

It felt good to be better than Becket at something.

But a part of Chuck might just be craving the devotion and attention he was getting.

His dad was also fairing marginally better, looking more alert and less worn. Sure, he and Chuck still refused to talk about anything that could potentially lead to them showing any kind of tender emotions but it was a work in progress and definitely getting better. If nothing else because both of them kept their promises.

Chuck was assigned a therapist and while his first session was only a marginal step up from his first with the other bloke he at least _tried_ to make an effort and that seemed to be enough for the therapist in question. She was definitely more resilient to Chuck's bullshit – a woman in her late forties who insisted he call her by her first name – and when Chuck seemed reluctant to talk she told him about her fascination for astronomy instead. It was surprisingly easy to listen to and, quite literally, a rather infinite subject to discuss. Chuck quite liked it.

It wasn't all good though.

Some days Chuck was in immense pain despite the medication he was on or lost his temper and started shouting profanities at anyone who dared come near. He was frustrated by his dependence on other people and wanted nothing to do with his nurse, doc or therapist on those days. Preferably not his dad or Becket either but they didn't always listen when Chuck told them to piss off – which only made him angrier.

Herc usually argued back, giving Chuck someone to shout at for real which, in all honesty, was a pretty good outlet even if they stepped on a couple of toes. Sooner or later they always ended up apologising even if it had to be reluctantly muttered under their breaths. The sincerity was still there because Chuck knew that neither of them wanted to slip back into not talking at all, so while the effort wasn't great there was at least an effort being made.

Becket, on the other hand, ignored him. He just sat there, listening to Chuck spew practical poison at him until he ran out of ideas or anger – whichever came first. Then Raleigh handed him one of his lollies – which he kept in his pockets, Chuck now knew – and told him to shut up and behave. Sometimes Chuck threw the candy right back at him and other times he sullenly admitted defeat and actually ate the bloody thing.

More often than not it was the latter.

Raleigh never once gave him a yellow candy again and Chuck was pretty sure that he got green and orange ones more often than the others, because those were his favourites. He hadn't said that they were but Raleigh seemed to have noticed and taken action.

Chuck's suspicions were confirmed one day when Mako was with them, which meant that Chuck was actually behaving, and Raleigh gave Mako a piece of candy from his left pocket and Chuck from his right. The silly dork actually _had_ made sure that Chuck would get more of those he liked and Chuck had no idea how to handle that. He had never really been the recipient of that kind of simple yet heartfelt gesture before. It made something warm and embarrassing blossom in his chest.

Which wasn't helped at all by the rather pointed and amused look Mako gave him when Chuck noticed – as if she had been waiting for him to do so. She obviously thought it was hilarious that Raleigh was doting on Chuck, even if she was very discreet about it, as with all other things. Chuck would have been blushing if he had been any less determined not to react to it. Stupid, dorky Becket.

Raleigh, as was often the case, seemed blissfully unaware. Or perhaps he was just faking ignorance, Chuck wasn't entirely sure.

Despite the fact that Chuck had company more often than before and had things to read when he didn't feel like watching telly the days still seemed to crawl by. He wasn't a very patient person and waiting for himself to get well enough to actually get out of bed was excruciating. There seemed to be no progress at all.

It didn't take more than two weeks before he was doing better mentally though. Jia was tolerant but stern and Chuck could admit that he needed that. She never let him slack off and on the days when he was in a bad mood she still insisted they have their session, even if she was left to do most of the talking. Chuck usually calmed down and behaved marginally better after half an hour of listening to her detailed accounts of whatever she found interesting that day.

The thing with Jia was that she never outright forced the subject of his recovery. Even when he didn't want to talk she didn't spend their allotted time explaining what he was doing wrong or how he could improve and what he could expect along the journey. She spoke about something else entirely, giving Chuck a much needed break from it all. He quite liked that and he could admit that it got easier to talk simply because he knew that he didn't have to. Jia could easily fill the silence if needed but was always there to listen when he felt ready to share.

It was a lot easier to feel ready when you could choose the moment yourself.

His dad never asked how the therapy sessions went but Chuck assumed that he didn't have to since it showed all too well on Chuck's mood that they were helping, albeit slowly. It was a bit frustrating sometimes since Chuck would have preferred to get better immediately, but he knew that wasn't how it worked. Progress was slow. He would just have to deal with that.

So Chuck endured it. Some days it was easier than others and some days he wanted to punch everyone within reach, but he endured it. Perhaps not gracefully and definitely not maturely but he held on. His dad seemed grateful even if it gave him a couple of headaches when Chuck was being particularly difficult and refused to cooperate or play nice.

Chuck had never been one to play nice.

It came as a slight surprise that one of the few people who could make him behave was Raleigh. Sure, Chuck was polite in Mako's presence and Jia had a way of calming him down when he was upset but Becket was the one who actually managed to make Chuck do things he didn't want to do.

Becket could tell Chuck to shut up and he would. Not without a curse and a rude gesture but he still did as Raleigh asked eventually. If Chuck's dad would have tried the same method Chuck would only have shouted louder.

It wasn't that Raleigh was always there – because he wasn't – and it wasn't like Chuck explicably trusted the bloke, but he could accept Becket's input as reasonable and often way more insightful than Chuck's own. Raleigh was better at social interaction for one. And he never said it like Chuck was an unruly child, which was something his dad had yet to learn.

On top of that Raleigh had an almost uncanny ability of making Chuck laugh. No one seemed to know how he did it – not even Raleigh himself – but he managed. And every time that stupid dork gave Chuck one of those beaming, proud grins it was a struggle not to smile back.

Chuck usually failed.

Raleigh could make him smile so easily. All he had to do was offer one of his own.

It was stupid. It was embarrassing. Chuck wasn't one for softer emotions and smiling was definitely not something he usually did – not in the way he smiled at Raleigh at least – but he couldn't help it. Raleigh might not be happy all the time – it was obvious that he still had a lot weighting him down and he would drift off into almost eerie silences sometimes – but when he was genuinely happy it was practically impossible not to get pulled along for the ride.

And he liked to spread the happiness around too.

Raleigh brought Max and then just sat there with a pleased little curl to his lips, not at all insulted when Chuck ignored him in favour of his dog. It looked like seeing Chuck excited about getting to snuggle with his dog was all the reward Raleigh needed. Or perhaps he was just laughing at how silly Chuck was, but Chuck could give him that. Max was worth it.

Not that Raleigh was always patient and kind – there were times when Chuck's mood got the better of them both – but he rarely stormed off or left things unresolved between them. Raleigh liked to talk things through and settle disputes, perhaps because he knew how suddenly you could lose someone and just how worthless apologies would be then.

Chuck couldn't say that Raleigh was trusting exactly but he was surprisingly open, as if he knew that if he offered a piece of himself Chuck would eventually feel bad enough to respond in kind. Because he did. Fuck it if Chuck knew why but he always did.

Becket was the only one who could make him do things he didn't want to do.

Chuck wasn't used to that and he didn't like that someone had that kind of influence over him, but he couldn't deny that the thought of Raleigh leaving, never to come back, scared him – it scared him something terrible. Unlike Chuck's dad Becket would have no reason to return if they had a falling out. Nothing connected them except Raleigh's decision that visiting Chuck was apparently a good idea.

Chuck wasn't sure why Raleigh did it. They weren't friends. They had nothing in common except Jaegers and that was pretty much a finished chapter in both of their lives. Chuck resented the idea that it might be pity but he liked the company too much to actually push Becket away.

Even so Chuck didn't understand the magnitude of it – just how much of a fixed point Raleigh had become in his life – until the moment Herc started turning to Raleigh when Chuck was being difficult. It was just small cues like a quick glance or an almost imperceptible nod but it happened every now and then when his dad didn't know how to handle him and quietly asked Becket to give it a shot instead. Raleigh always fared better, possibly because he seemed reluctant to pick a side and get involved in the argument as a whole. More often than not he just tried to calm Chuck down.

Chuck had no idea why anyone would voluntarily step between him and whatever he was pissed at unless they had a death wish, but Raleigh did it. Whenever the situation was getting out of hand Raleigh would push in a casual observation that left Chuck feeling either angry or embarrassed – usually because it involved Chuck's immature nature in some way – and he'd be forced to settle down unless he wanted to prove Raleigh right. Chuck didn't know why he cared about Becket's opinion but he didn't like the thought of coming off as childish. Not to Raleigh.

The surprising part was that Raleigh didn't seem to mind playing babysitter. He did it without question and so instinctively that he barely even hesitated before acting. Like the two memorable occasions when Raleigh reached out and grabbed a hold of Chuck's arm just seconds before he got prepared to launch something at his dad's head.

Chuck didn't know how Raleigh could tell that he had to intervene or that he would be successful in doing so for that matter. Because a part of Chuck wanted to turn his anger towards Raleigh instead – he hated people holding him back – but he couldn't do that. He remembered what happened last time and no matter how angry he was Raleigh's calm but insistent concern made him grit his teeth and curb most of it.

That's not to say that he didn't yank his arm out of Becket's grasp but he never did end up throwing things across the room either.

It pissed Chuck off that Raleigh seemed to think that he was somehow responsible for Chuck's behaviour and meddled in his life to the extent that he did, but a small part of him – a very frail, insecure part of him – didn't mind having someone to ground him. Because that was what Raleigh did. In its purest essence that was what Raleigh gave him.

Someone to depend on.

Chuck wasn't sure why Raleigh volunteered to do it – he had no reason to – but it felt comforting. Safe. It made him feel at ease whenever he had Raleigh in his peripheral vision. Chuck never discussed his problems with Raleigh – he barely even did that with Jia – but there was a kind of security in having him there and knowing that he, for some godforsaken reason, actually cared about Chuck's well-being. Raleigh cared.

And maybe that was why Chuck found himself being more and more careful and actually listened to the things Raleigh said. It just felt wrong to disappoint someone who was so selflessly trying to make things better for Chuck.

The mere fact that Chuck noticed his own changing opinion was a bit of a miracle – he was too harsh to really bother with the delicacies of social interaction – and that he, on top of that, actually made an effort to be _nice_ was practically unheard of.

Chuck had never cared about being nice before.

He had always used his status as a Jaeger pilot to get away with his atrocious behaviour and never batted an eyelash. He had let his resentment for his dad and his need to become the best fuel his actions to the point that he didn't care who he stepped on to get there.

But now, when the Breach was closed and the Kaiju gone he wasn't sure why it would matter whether he was the record holder in Kaiju kills or not. It was a merit, sure, but it felt rather worthless in the greater scheme of things. Chuck was one of the best pilots – perhaps _the_ best depending on how you looked at it – to ever step inside a Jaeger but what difference did that do now? What was his purpose? How long would he be able to live on the fame of that before people tired of him and his offensive behaviour?

Chuck had always looked down on people he thought were beneath him – people who were soft, kind and put so much effort into being _good_ and _dutiful_. People like Mako and to a lesser extent Raleigh, who wasn't nearly as adorable as some seemed to believe, but still genuinely good. A part of Chuck despised them.

But now? What did he have to show for his attitude? He had always thought that the glory and accomplishment of being the best would be enough, but he wasn't so sure anymore.

Chuck no longer knew why he had fought so hard to get something that proved to be virtually pointless as soon as the actual goal was reached. With the Kaiju and Striker gone Chuck didn't have much left except eleven kills to his name, a tattered relationship with his father and a broken leg.

It didn't feel like something to be proud of. Eleven dead Kaiju didn't make up for his mum dying or the fact that he had pretty much lost his dad in the same go. Nothing had felt right after she died. Herc choose the military as his outlet for the grief and need for vengeance while Chuck felt angry and betrayed – in that black and white, innocent way only children could – that his dad couldn't somehow have saved her too.

Now he felt pretty ashamed about that.

Perhaps it was because the weeks he spent hospitalised gave him ample time to slow down and think or perhaps it was Drifting with someone else than his dad – to share his mind with Stacker Pentecost – but Chuck knew Herc couldn't have saved her. He kind of always had but it wasn't until then that he acknowledged and started believing it. Hercules Hansen was still a shit dad but he had prioritised like any other parent would and chosen his child first.

It was ironic, in a way, that all of Chuck's resentment towards his dad and his need to be noticed by him – to be better than him – originated from that one occasion when Chuck had literally been the single most important thing on his father's mind, to the point that he had chosen Chuck over his own wife.

It wasn't logical and shouldn't be possible but somehow it was.

Chuck was pretty sure that said more about his self-esteem and sense of self-worth than he cared to admit, that he still hadn't forgiven his dad for choosing Chuck over his mum. He couldn't accept it as the best course of action and was continuously trying to prove that he was worth it. That Herc hadn't made the wrong decision that day.

Chuck could admit that it surprised him when he found himself blurting it all out of Jia during one of their sessions. He usually never ventured further back than a couple of years if he could help it – definitely never as far back to discuss his mum – but he had to get it out somehow. It was too earth shattering to just keep inside his head, letting it twist and turn until he felt nauseous with survivor's guilt.

Jia let him talk until he was breathless and shaking from how _vulnerable_ he felt before she started putting him back together again. Chuck didn't know how she did it but he came out feeling calmer than he had in ages, even if it took him about three days before he managed to handle it in its entirety.

He still felt guilty – probably always would – but he came to terms with the fact that done was done and no matter how troublesome and obnoxious Chuck was his dad didn't seem to regret the decision. Chuck didn't have to prove himself worthy.

And Chuck was grateful to be alive.

Jia obviously thought that Chuck should mention this to Herc and perhaps even try to say outright that he forgave him and didn't blame him for Chuck's mum's death, but it was still too early. Too fragile. Maybe one day Chuck would be able to voice something like that, but not yet. Not _now_ , when there was so much else he needed to get through.

All in due time.

He and his dad would get it sorted out eventually. Chuck knew they would.

He just needed a little more time.

A week before Chuck could finally get rid of his bloody cast Raleigh broke their unspoken agreement of not discussing anything of importance or emotional value. Chuck kind of knew that it would happen eventually because Becket _loved_ to talk, but he had to admit that he was slightly surprised by what the conversation ended up being about.

"I've been thinking," Raleigh began, both of them staring at the telly, but Becket's gaze was admittedly too distant to really be seeing what was on it. "When you called Operation Pitfall your bomb run it wasn't just arrogance, was it?"

Chuck frowned, looking at Raleigh. He was still trying to decide whether or not to eat the apple that had come with his lunch that day, rolling it around in his palm.

"What you on about?"

Raleigh was still staring straight ahead, looking almost disturbingly disconnected.

"I just mean that for all the shit and insults you toss around you're still a good guy, aren't you?" Becket finally turned his head, meeting Chuck's gaze with an intensity that made Chuck's skin crawl. It felt like Raleigh was trying to see straight through him. "You didn't say that just because you wanted the glory, but because you felt responsible. It really was _your_ bomb run because you were prepared to take full responsibility. You were prepared to die without hesitation, as long as the mission was a success."

Chuck didn't know what to reply since Raleigh wasn't phrasing it like a question anymore.

"What about it?" he snapped defensively. He wasn't sure why but it made him unsettled to have Raleigh pick Chuck's intentions apart like that. Chuck wasn't even entirely sure if Becket was right or not. He had never felt interested enough by his own behaviour to the extent that he had to analyse it in detail.

Raleigh smiled.

"I don't know. I guess I just find it interesting that you're not as big of an ass as I first thought."

Chuck couldn't help scoffing, shaking his head.

"I'm not a good guy, _Rah_ leigh."

"Never said you were, _Charlie_ , but you're not so bad, all things considered."

"Oi! Don't call me that," Chuck growled, tossing his apple at Raleigh's head.

The bastard caught it effortlessly, twisting the apple around in his hand, grinning smugly, before taking a bite out of it. Which naturally meant that Chuck instantly regretted his impulsive nature because now he really wanted that apple for himself.

He tried not to pout.

"As I was saying," Raleigh continued, happily munching on what was now unmistakably _his_ apple. "You're really not that bad."

Chuck ran a hand through his hair, feeling something unidentifiable land in his gut.

"But I'm really not that good either."

It was probably the closest Chuck had come to openly admitting to a fault since he was eleven.

"You don't have to be good," Raleigh replied with a shrug. "Right and wrong, good or bad – it's rarely that simple. People are people. And few of us manage to be genuinely nice."

"Unless you're Mako," Chuck found himself saying.

The dorky, delighted smile spreading on Raleigh's lips kind of made him wish he hadn't. Raleigh looked a little dazed, swallowing a bite of his apple before he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck like some teenage boy in love. Something cold and hard settled inside Chuck's chest – something that made him want to hunch and pull away.

It was suddenly a little more difficult to breathe.

"Yeah, Mako is awesome," Raleigh agreed wholeheartedly, even if his expression sobered up soon enough. He turned the apple in his hand, as if to study it closer. "But she's not perfect either. Or, well, I mean, of course she is – in her own way – but not without flaws. None of us are."

Chuck was still trying to breathe around the tightness in his chest. It felt like something was squeezing out what little air he had left. It hurt like hell.

Shit.

Chuck knew perfectly well what that sensation was. He hadn't felt it often but there was no mistaking it. Chuck knew what it was like to be jealous and it was startling to realise that he wasn't jealous of Raleigh and Mako's relationship, oh no – he would have _killed_ for it to be that simple.

He was jealous of Mako.

How the mere mention of her name could make Raleigh smile like that. He was jealous of how devoted and starstruck Raleigh was by her – as if she was the single most glorious being on the planet. Raleigh _adored_ her. He was so in love with her that he was probably just steps away from naming all the kids they were going to have together.

And Chuck hated that. He fucking _loathed_ it. Ugly, angry emotions were swirling in his chest and he couldn't help it, because he was obviously a little more attached to Raleigh than he should be.

Fuck.

Not Raleigh. Anyone but Raleigh bloody Becket.

Didn't Chuck have enough problems? Did the universe really have to punish him with this as well? Being an invalid wasn't enough? He had to have _feelings_ for _Raleigh_ too?

Christ.

Chuck wanted to murder something.

"Hey, you okay?"

Chuck looked at Raleigh, keeping his expression carefully blank. He had gotten better at that. He had less mood swings and explosive outbursts and he had noticed that it was easier to hide what he really felt or thought that way. Now was definitely one of those times when he needed it.

"Bonzer. So what are you and Mako going to be up to after the Shatterdome is closed?"

The suffocating, aching clench in his chest only seemed to grow but Chuck didn't care. He felt a masochistic urge to feed it, to really make it burn. He needed to make himself realise just how stupid he was being – how hopeless it was to be even remotely interested in Raleigh.

Chuck didn't stand a chance against someone like Mako. Not when you, like Raleigh, actually appreciated people being polite and nice. Chuck wasn't polite or nice even when he had to be.

"She's going back to Japan for a while and she asked me to come with her," Raleigh replied, confirming Chuck's suspicion that they would be spending time together even after the whole business was over. It only made sense. They were obviously extremely close.

Raleigh shrugged, still smiling that easy, gentle smile of his. Chuck exhaled slowly, keeping his expression carefully balanced despite the choking lump in his throat.

"After that we'll see, I guess."

Chuck couldn't quite identify the strange undertone in Raleigh's voice or the look in his eyes.

"Take her to Grand Canyon," Chuck blurted out, surprising himself and Becket both.

"What? Really?" Raleigh sounded confused, brows furrowed, apple halfway to his lips.

He hadn't really planned to say that but it made sense when Chuck thought about it. Couples did those kinds of things, right?

Chuck shrugged.

"Yeah, why not? I think she'd like to see more of the world." Chuck kept his voice even and deceptively light. "We're pretty similar in that sense, she and I. We've been around the world with our dads but never got to see any of the actual sights. It's not a fun way to experience it so she deserves a real vacation – to see all those things with someone who can appreciate them with her. I think she'd want that."

The grin on Raleigh's lips was teasing and fond in a way that shouldn't have left Chuck feeling even worse. But it did. Raleigh looked really happy when he thought of Mako.

"See? You're a better guy than you give yourself credit for."

Chuck smiled back but he knew that it was a hollow, pathetic excuse of a smile. He really wasn't a good guy. If Raleigh knew what Chuck was thinking he wouldn't be nearly as chipper about the whole thing.

Not that Chuck thought that Becket was a homophobe or anything – not all-around good guy Raleigh – but there was a difference between that and being the recipient of unwanted attention from someone you barely even liked. Anyone could feel violated and put off by that.

Which was why Chuck knew better than to show anything.

"Just do as I say, you dork," Chuck drawled, forcing himself to act natural.

"I'll think about it, brat," Raleigh shot back, grinning widely. He seemed to take a deep breath before his smile softened and he started fiddling almost nervously with his apple. "Would you-"

Raleigh didn't get further than that before he cut himself off, staring down at his hands. He looked so conflicted and Chuck couldn't for the life of him understand why.

"Would I what?" Chuck asked, rolling his eyes when Raleigh didn't pick up the tangent again.

Becket shook his head but looked uncomfortable all of a sudden, his gaze flickering.

"Nah, never mind." His smile was forced. "So what are you going to do?"

Chuck had not expected to be asked that question in return. And he had definitely not considered what he would answer if anyone wanted to know. The truth was that he had no idea.

Well, except for the obvious.

"Physical therapy," he deadpanned.

Raleigh chuckled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I mean besides that." Raleigh took a bite out of his apple, clearly waiting for Chuck's reply.

But Chuck had never thought that far. It had never even occurred to him that he would need to occupy himself with more than just getting better unless he wanted to be as bored as he was while lying in his hospital bed. He wasn't even entirely sure _where_ he would be, but he would have to find something else to do or he'd go nuts.

But what options did he have?

"Study."

It just slipped out. It was the first thing that popped into his head and seemed at least vaguely reasonable. Raleigh blinked, clearly surprised by Chuck's answer.

Raleigh wasn't the only one.

"Really?" The note of disbelief in Becket's voice made Chuck's anger flare.

"Yeah, what of it?" He hadn't actually planned to imply that he was going back to school but he didn't like the thought of Becket looking down on him either. "My brain is in fully working order, unlike for some of us, so there's nothing wrong with putting it to use."

Raleigh pressed his lips into a thin line, clearly not too happy about the barely hidden insult.

"I didn't mean it like that, Chuck. I was just surprised. I didn't know you would-... I don't know. Be interested in something like that."

In a way Chuck understood what Raleigh meant. Chuck had never been one to boast about whatever academic prowess he had since his pride at being a Jaeger pilot greatly overshadowed it. Being clever and book smart didn't seem as impressive or useful. But now, when he wouldn't have the same physical abilities? He had to do something and reading at least kept him busy.

"Shows how well you know me," Chuck snapped before he was able to hold it back. He regretted it a second later when Raleigh's expression shuttered off, as it often did when Chuck was pushing all the wrong buttons.

Chuck didn't want to. He didn't like seeing Becket like that, all blank and unreadable, but it was difficult to change old habits and not bite back as soon as he was met with something that could be mistaken for an insult. He had been doing it for years and it was a behaviour he wasn't sure how to break. On some days he managed but on others – when he felt pressured or vulnerable – he couldn't seem to help it.

"Well, I'm happy you know what you want to do anyway," Raleigh offered monotonously, rising from his chair without as much as a glance in Chuck's direction.

Raleigh usually didn't do that. He always tried to sort things through instead of leaving, but Chuck couldn't exactly blame him either. Chuck was being unnecessarily rude and Becket didn't know why – and Chuck couldn't tell him because it was partly founded in petty, childish jealousy.

Chuck had to clench his hands around the sheets of his bed not to reach out and ask Becket to stay. Chuck was far too proud and it was probably best if Raleigh left anyway. Chuck needed some time alone to curse at himself for getting so attached to someone who was clearly not interested.

But he still couldn't help feeling an ache in his chest when Raleigh walked towards the door, tossing the apple in the trashcan as he passed it. Chuck's heart was beating loudly in his ears, the pace rapid and anxious. He shouldn't have been so rude. He didn't actually want to give Raleigh a reason to leave – not like this.

"I didn't-..." Chuck hesitated, coming up short. Raleigh stopped all the same, his hand on the door handle. Chuck cleared his throat. "I didn't mean it..."

Chuck was rubbish at apologies. He couldn't seem to form the words unless he was in acute emotional distress and not even that helped sometimes.

"I know." Raleigh still sounded tired – defeated. His smile was crooked and a little sad. "But sometimes it takes a little longer than a couple of seconds for me to forgive."

Chuck hadn't expected how much that would hurt. And he still couldn't say those words he knew would make it at least a little better. He couldn't. Raleigh deserved it, he really did, for putting up with Chuck's mood and harsh words for weeks without murdering him, but Chuck couldn't apologise.

Raleigh sighed, opening the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Chuck swallowed and nodded.

"Yeah."

He felt like shit. Why did he fuck things up all the time?

Chuck watched in silence as Raleigh left, ashamed that he had lost his temper. And for what? Because he thought Becket was insulting him? Chuck knew better – he knew _Raleigh_ better than that.

But he guessed that was all the proof he would ever need that he should let Raleigh and Mako be. Chuck could never be like them. He wasn't meant to have nice, healthy relationships with people – he didn't know _how_. He was all sharp, hard angles and biting insults and would only ever fuck things up.

Chuck stared up at the ceiling, his throat dry and bones heavy. It was only when Raleigh was long gone that he managed to say it, whispered in the quiet room for no one to hear.

"I'm sorry."

He was such a fucking mess.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo yeah. It's a slow progress to make Chuck less of an asshole but at least he acknowledges that he's one now and feels bad about it! That has to count for something!
> 
> ... and yes, Raleigh is totally sorting the candies so that Chuck gets more of those he likes. You know Raleigh would do that. Don't deny it. And, like my wonderful beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) said: If that is not love I don't know what this world has come to. Although she used a lot more caps than I just did.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter anyway and I'll be over at my [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/) if you have any questions!


	6. Goodbye

 

* * *

 

Things were tentative between Chuck and Raleigh during the days that followed. Raleigh seemed to have forgiven the rudeness rather quickly – he always did even if Chuck definitely didn't deserve it – but there was still something wrong between them. Chuck couldn't say what exactly but was willing to bet it was because of him and his inconvenient epiphany.

He had feelings for Raleigh.

Wasn't that a kick in the teeth? How on earth was Chuck supposed to be able to hide that when he wore most of his emotions on his sleeves? And Becket spent at least an hour a day in his presence?

The only good thing was that Chuck didn't have to Drift with his dad and have him find out about it. Chuck still remembered their first Drift after Chuck had lost his virginity. Chuck might have done it mostly to scorn and annoy Herc but it had been pretty fucking hilarious too, because of the brief but still noticeable hiccup it had caused in the neural handshake.

Reckless, yes, but also something Chuck had found great pleasure in because it had forced his dad to react _somehow_. Despite how little time Chuck had had outside of the PPDC and the Kaiju attacks Herc had to be a complete fool to think that Chuck wouldn't have time to get laid. And despite the flickering moment of hesitation and the complex torrent of emotions his dad had displayed Striker had still taken down the Kaiju in the end. They never spoke of it again – like most things that jarred their relationship – but Chuck took it as a small victory all the same.

Now he was glad that he could keep his personal feelings private. His old man could not, under any circumstances, know about Chuck being interested in Raleigh fucking Becket of all people. That was just wrong on so many levels and bloody embarrassing.

Too bad his dad seemed hellbent on making things worse even when he didn't know that he was doing just that.

Two days before Chuck was getting his cast removed his dad came to Chuck's hospital room with Max on his leash and a confused – and obviously slightly unsettled – Raleigh trailing behind him.

Chuck stiffened instinctively.

He wasn't quite sure what to expect but he knew that it could potentially result in bloodshed considering that Max wouldn't react like his dad must be expecting. Max should be beside himself after supposedly not having seen Chuck for over six weeks but all he did was to happily trot up to Chuck's bed before throwing an expectant look at Raleigh, waiting to be lifted. Like every other time they had been visiting Chuck in secret right under Herc's nose. The difference being that his dad was right there this time.

Chuck couldn't tell if he or Raleigh was the one in trouble – possibly both of them – but Becket was definitely cataloguing possible escape routes when Chuck's dad turned, giving him an equally expectant look.

"Well? Are you going to keep him waiting?"

Raleigh snapped to attention like he had been given an order and after a moment of hesitation walked up and hoisted Max up onto Chuck's hospital bed.

"How stupid do you boys think I am?" Herc asked, amusement underlying the stern look on his face. Chuck gave his dad a venomous glare and pulled Max closer to his chest on pure defiance.

"I think it would be wisest if I didn't answer that, sir," Raleigh replied, looking sheepish.

"Definitely." Herc crossed his arms over his chest.

Chuck couldn't help rolling his eyes at the spectacle of it all.

"It's my fault, old man. I nagged until Ray smuggled Max in just to make me shut up." The lie came easily, perhaps because it involved Chuck being a dick which, in all honesty, wasn't that much of a stretch. Raleigh's look of surprise almost ruined it though, but he managed to cover it up just in time for Chuck's dad to give him a prompting look and a raised eyebrow.

"Uh..." Raleigh rubbed his neck. "I know it was stupid and irresponsible-"

"I'm the one stuck here and it's my bloody dog so I think it was up to me to make that decision," Chuck interrupted. Christ, Raleigh was such a piss poor liar. "If you're going to get angry then go ahead, but since you've obviously known for a while and didn't do anything then I don't think that you have any right to be pissed now, old man."

"I couldn't care less about that. I just enjoy watching you two squirm," Herc replied bluntly, without a hint of remorse. Chuck flipped him off, which his dad graciously ignored. Raleigh seemed to relax though, leaning his hip against the side of Chuck's bed, his hand fiddling with the sheets next to Chuck's right knee.

"I just figured that since it made you happier and not sicker there was no need to intervene," his dad continued, the amusement clearly outweighing the sternness now.

"Piss off, old man," Chuck snarked, rubbing Max's ear as his bulldog settled down on the bed next to him. Chuck's ribs were well enough by then that it barely even hurt even when Max accidentally jostled him.

"Coming from you that's pretty much a term of endearment by now," Raleigh remarked, smiling cheekily. Chuck gave him a deadpan look before snorting, trying to deny the smile that was twitching on his own lips.

Chuck's gaze snapped to his dad when he cleared his throat loudly.

"We need to talk about your recovery, Chuck. There's physical therapy to consider once the cast is removed." Herc's expression was difficult to read. "And we need to know where you'll be when it's time to get started."

Chuck stiffened. So that was why Raleigh was there. While his dad might have wanted to make a point about them lying about Max's visits the true reason for Raleigh's presence was for him to be a mediator. Herc obviously expected Chuck to get unnecessarily stubborn during the conversation that was to follow.

It was difficult to take a calm breath when all he wanted to do was curse at his dad for using Becket as some kind of buffer between them. Sure, it was effective but also demeaning. Not to mention unfair to Raleigh. Chuck didn't need supervision or a safety blanket.

"Sure." Chuck shrugged, keeping his anger in check while scratching Max's ear. "Do you mind, Raleigh? My dad has had his fun now so I'm sure you're free to go."

It might have been the fact that Chuck didn't mispronounce Raleigh's name or that he had never actually asked him to leave the room before but both Becket and Herc looked surprised. And vaguely alarmed, as if Chuck was going off script somehow. But they couldn't exactly object either because Chuck had been awfully polite and calm while he forwarded his request.

"Uh... sure." Raleigh hesitated though. His hand was twitching against the sheets, so close to Chuck's leg that he could almost feel it, but Becket eventually pushed off and headed towards the door. It didn't look like he wanted to leave.

Which in turn only made Chuck keener to see him go. This was none of Raleigh's business. Raleigh was going to go off with Mako and see the world – he didn't need to know where Chuck would be when he tried to learn how to walk properly again.

Chuck blatantly ignored the confused look Raleigh gave him before he left.

His dad was less discreet.

"What's going on with you, Chuck?" Herc asked as soon as the door had closed behind Becket. Chuck had never been reluctant to have Raleigh in the room before. If anything he had welcomed it because he really did seem to keep both Chuck and his dad more civil.

Chuck snorted.

"I want to be able to have a conversation without a babysitter, alright?" He looked at his dad, calm and surprisingly composed. "So what do you want to discuss?"

Herc seemed taken aback. He cleared his throat – awkwardly almost – and Chuck bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snarling that he should just get on with it. Chuck was going to handle this like an adult. At least outwardly.

"We can't stay here at the Shatterdome forever."

Once again Chuck held back a sarcastic response and it was almost comical watching his dad's surprise when Chuck _didn't_ drawl something insulting. It was obviously quite amusing to be polite, if only because it seem to throw everyone off balance.

His dad cleared his throat.

"I've gotten us a house, back in Australia." Herc elaborated before Chuck felt a need to point out that that didn't exactly narrow it down all that much. "On the outskirts of Sydney. It's a nice neighbourhood. Calm and a little isolated but still close to... well-"

"Medical professionals," Chuck finished, scratching Max's head.

It wasn't a bad idea and Chuck could admit that he felt a lot of tension leech from his bones simply because his dad said 'us'. While it was frustrating to admit he knew that he wouldn't manage on his own. He liked the thought of having his dad there, even if they would most likely try to kill each other before the first week was up.

"Yeah," Herc said in a tense exhale. He seemed to think that Chuck would be against the idea.

"So when are we leaving?" Chuck asked easily.

His dad blinked.

"You-..." He felt silent but gathered his wits with admirable swiftness, straightening somewhat but looking calmer at the same time. He seemed to understand that Chuck had no intention of being difficult for once. "There's no set date. It's ready for us when we feel up for it."

While his dad might have said 'we' Chuck knew that this time he meant 'you'. It all depended on Chuck and when he would feel ready to travel that kind of distance.

"Alright. I'd like to leave as soon as the cast comes off," Chuck said without hesitation.

His dad paused though, looking both surprised and vaguely worried.

"In two days? Are you sure? It might be better if you stayed a while longer – for observation and all that – just to make sure that-"

"Dad, I'm sure. Fact is, I could have been transferred weeks ago and you know that. I'm not that fragile." Chuck rubbed his thumb over Max's brow, the bulldog sighing happily at the attention. "My ribs are practically healed, so is my head, there are no infections and while my leg is far from fully functional it's not going to break. I'm sure the doctors in Sydney can take it from there."

His dad still seemed reluctant to agree.

"Jia can't come with us, you know that, right?"

Chuck took a slow breath. He could admit that he felt a sting of worry at that. Jia was important to him by then, not only as his therapist but as someone who let him breathe and think of something else for a couple of hours. But he knew that he couldn't keep her forever anyway.

"Yeah, I know. And it worries me a little."

Chuck wouldn't usually be that open and admit to any kind of weakness but he knew that his dad would find a reason to deny him if he didn't. He would have to give a little to get what he wanted, and right now getting away from the Hong Kong Shatterdome was actually pretty high on Chuck's list of priorities, for several different reasons. He was going to take the chance when he got it.

He took a deep breath.

"But we'll find someone else in Sydney. As long as I get to choose."

"Of course," Herc replied, nodding. He had obviously learned his lesson not to force a therapist on Chuck. Or perhaps he was just so totally blindsided by how cooperative Chuck was being. There was a glimmer of suspicion in his eyes though, simply because Chuck usually wasn't. His dad seemed to realise that there was more to it than Chuck let on.

"There's no rush. Are you sure you want to leave so soon?" his dad asked. It could have seemed like a tentative question if it hadn't been for the thoughtful tone he used.

"I'm sure. I have nothing that keeps me here."

His dad actually paused for a couple of seconds before his eyes narrowed.

"Are you running from something?"

The question was enough to make some of Chuck's gathered composure slip.

"Of course not, old man," he snapped, feeling quite offended. Chuck didn't run – from anything. "I just don't think that there's much left for me here. They're soon done dismantling the 'dome, aren't they? The science division is gone in a week or two and the sooner I leave the sooner the nurses and docs can go home to their families. I'm the last one here, right?

Herc nodded slowly, almost as if he didn't want to disclose that information. Chuck rolled his eyes.

"This isn't exactly a very comforting, uplifting environment, is it? I'm bored, antsy and like to get a change of scenery, alright? There's nothing keeping me here."

A short silence fell between them, his dad studying him carefully with a surprisingly unreadable look on his face. His gears were turning – Chuck could see that much – but he had no idea what sort of conclusion Herc was coming to.

"Raleigh and Mako will stay for another couple of weeks," his dad said eventually, voice carefully even. The implication was rather clear though. His dad thought that Chuck should stay for them.

Chuck couldn't deny that it felt like something slammed into his chest, leaving him slightly breathless. But his dad was wrong. They weren't a reason to stay either. Chuck wasn't going to fit in with them and their happy, perfect lives much longer. He had better things to do than watch them be sickeningly adorable and in love.

He gritted his teeth before shaking his head with a wry smile.

"So what? They're going to be busy. And we're not actually friends, Dad. I'm pretty sure they don't even like me."

"Chuck-"

"I don't want to stay, alright? I want to get out of here. Out of this bed and away from Hong Kong." Okay, so maybe Chuck really was going to be stubborn about this. "It's easier if I do all my physical therapy in Sydney. It will be more practical if we just leave as soon as the cast comes off and start fresh there."

A sigh from his dad.

"I can agree with that, but I'm not so sure you should-"

"I really don't care!" Chuck snarled, his patience running thin. "You asked when I want to leave and I've told you. The rest is none of your business."

Herc seemed inches from disagreeing until he obviously thought better of it. He didn't look pleased per se but eased back, accepting the minor defeat as he rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"Alright, fine. Have it your way. We leave within a day after the cast has come off."

"Ace."

Chuck focused on Max, preferring that over the reproachful look on his dad's face.

"I'm guessing you don't feel inclined to tell them the news?"

Chuck didn't have to ask who 'them' was.

"Nah." He looked up, expression cocky and brash once more, not caring that it made him seem like an unkind arsehole. He was. He really was. Because he was a coward who didn't dare to tell Raleigh and Mako that he was practically avoiding them. "You have fun with that. They're probably going to miss you more than me anyway. You can have a nice little bonding moment over it."

Chuck wasn't sure what was curling in the pit of his stomach but it was nothing good, that was for sure. Anger, definitely, but also a fair share of self-loathing, he suspected.

Herc sighed, crossing his arms over his chest with a disapproving frown.

"You know, I was just about to say that you seem to have matured quite a lot these past couple of weeks but now I'm not so sure anymore."

It stung – the tone more than anything – but Chuck couldn't exactly say that it wasn't true. He shrugged, applying the same cocky, careless mask he usually did whenever he didn't want to face what he was actually feeling.

"I guess that's just the way I am, whether you like it or not."

Chuck hadn't expected the sudden flicker in his dad's gaze – as if something finally snapped. It was probably long overdue but a surprise none the less.

"No, Chuck, it's what you _choose_ to be. I might not have made the best decisions and you've had a rough life, I can acknowledge that, but there's only so much blame and guilt you can push onto other people before you have to face the fact that maybe – just maybe – _you_ are the one who make the final decision on whether to act like a bloody arsehole because of it or not. That's on _you_ , Chuck, not me."

Chuck felt the familiar anger burn under his skin, wanting to retaliate, but something held him back. Actually, Chuck knew exactly what held him back – guilt.

His dad was right. He knew that his dad was right. Chuck hid his insecurities behind arrogance and it was no doubt beginning to get old. He wasn't fifteen anymore.

When Chuck seemed reluctant to answer Herc clenched his jaw before turning on his heel and marching towards the door. It was difficult to tell if he was angry or just done with Chuck's shit. The two might be connected but there was still a subtle difference.

Too bad Chuck couldn't tell which one was which.

"I'll come by and get Max later," his dad said as he opened the door. Max raised his head at the mention of his name but when he noticed that no one was asking him to move he settled down again, burrowing against Chuck's side with a sleepy grumble. "I'll arrange for our transport."

Chuck said nothing. He just nodded softly, carefully avoiding his dad's gaze. It probably made him look more like a chastised child than he had in years but he didn't know what else to do. He'd start shouting if he looked up and saw disapproval on Herc's face and he knew that he would. It was better to just avoid it entirely.

His dad didn't say anything else before he left.

Chuck figured that was just as well.

It took some skill but Chuck was able to dodge each and every one of Raleigh's attempts to somehow set up a line of communication that would mean that they could keep in touch after Chuck left. There were several possibilities like phone, email and even the regular postal service if one was in that particular mood, but Chuck didn't want to. What he wanted was a clean break. He was already too attached and dependent on Raleigh and he had no intention of latching on like some wuss unable to take care of himself.

Raleigh still kept trying during the two days leading up to Chuck and his dad's departure, despite the reoccurring looks of defeated, heartbreaking disappointment whenever Chuck avoided answering or flat out lied. It was actually harder than it looked to keep Raleigh at arm's length – kind of like kicking a puppy – but Chuck told himself that it was for the best. He could withstand the sad looks.

The moment Raleigh finally accepted defeat almost broke him though, but no one had to know that. No one had to know what particular feeling Chuck was nearly suffocated by when the already wavering determination in Raleigh's eyes flickered and died at another one of Chuck's refusals. It was better that way. Raleigh was going to be busy anyway. Chuck wasn't good company, not compared to Mako – and Raleigh definitely had Mako.

When they showed up to wave Chuck off they lingered close enough to each other to always touch somehow. They didn't seem capable of stepping out of the other's personal space, as if constant physical contact was some kind of requirement. They looked so in love.

And that was why Chuck kept things easy and simple as he said goodbye, seated in a wheelchair despite his protests. The cast might have come off earlier that day and he had been cleared for travel but he couldn't even use crutches so far, his leg limp and useless. Chuck was sincerely grateful that he got to wear some real clothes again though, and that no one could see the amount of scarring on his leg. Chuck wasn't vain – not like that at least – but it truly did look horrible, if only for the time being. He was sure it would look better in a couple of months. Or years.

Mako was respectful and polite as she said goodbye, bowing her head with a sad little smile on her lips, as if she might actually miss Chuck once he left. Chuck responded in kind and wished her good luck with the continued dismantling of the Shatterdome.

Raleigh, in comparison, seemed almost angry. His jaw was tightly clenched, his hands shoved into his pockets and he kept looking at Chuck's dad, Mako, the helicopter, their surroundings – anything but Chuck. It caused an aching, chilling squeeze in Chuck's chest but he knew that he was the one to blame for blowing Becket off one too many times.

Raleigh wasn't happy about Chuck deciding to cut all ties.

He still felt a little insulted that Raleigh didn't even shake his hand or acknowledge his departure in any other way than a stiff nod. Even Herc got some kind of half-hug, half-hand shake thing.

Chuck had truly sunk to the lowest of the low if he was getting jealous of _his dad_.

There was a brief moment when Raleigh seemed inches from saying something, his hand moving as if to take something out from his pocket, but eventually did nothing but catch Mako's hand and lace their fingers together.

It felt like a kick to Chuck's still fragile ribs. But at least it meant he was doing the right thing. They were perfect together and deserved to be happy. Chuck just didn't want to have to stick around and see it with his own eyes. He very much liked not feeling like shit, thank you very much.

So he mustered up a smile. It was the kindest, warmest and most honest smile he had managed in quite a while – and it wasn't even that difficult. He just had to imagine what it must be like to be Mako. To have someone as devoted and sincere as Raleigh to care for you. To be the one Raleigh smiled at.

To _not_ be the spoiled, arrogant brat that only earned himself a reluctant, stoic nod.

This might very well be the last time they saw each other and that was the face Chuck would remember. The cold, angry glare and tightly pressed lips.

Chuck felt it was exactly what he deserved for treating Raleigh like shit.

But he still made sure to smile. Perhaps it would make Becket remember him a little more favourably.

"You think on what I said, Raleigh. I'm sure Arizona is nice this time of year."

Raleigh seemed to blink, either surprised by Chuck's words of the fact that he wasn't being hostile, but Chuck didn't stay to figure it out. He promptly turned the wheelchair around and started rolling himself towards the awaiting helicopter. It took a couple of seconds before his dad joined him, helping Chuck up along the makeshift ramp. Max trotted obediently behind them.

It wasn't until he was safely buckled up that Chuck looked back at Mako and Raleigh. He frowned at the conflicted look on Raleigh's face. If Chuck didn't know better he'd say that Becket looked sad – desperately so almost. He wasn't standing pressed against Mako anymore but rather one step in front of her, as if he had moved towards the helicopter at some point – whatever that meant.

Their fingers were still entwined though.

"You know I don't have a habit of involving myself in your personal business."

His dad's voice brought Chuck back to the present, his gaze snapping to him instead of focusing on the puzzling look on Becket's face.

"Then why are you trying to now?" Chuck shot back, but there wasn't much heat in his voice.

Herc frowned but seemed troubled rather than angry.

"Because I'm not entirely sure why you're doing this to yourself. You're not happy, Chuck. I can see that clear as day."

Chuck sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I just... I want a fresh start," he admitted softly, knowing that he'd do better if he went with the truth this time. "And I want to do it on my own. I know that I have to accept help from time to time but there's a big difference between that and being dependent on someone. I don't want to rely on anyone else when it comes to getting back on my feet again. It's not healthy and-... it's not me either. It's not who I am. It's not how I work and I have no intention of changing just because my leg is bust."

Chuck couldn't help that his eyes drifted to look at Raleigh again, their gazes locking. He had no idea what Raleigh was trying to tell him with that complicated mess of emotions reflecting in his eyes, or what Chuck might be saying in return, but he knew that he was making the right choice.

"I need this. I need to know I can do this, without being dependent on-" Chuck fell abruptly silent, not wanting to finish the sentence.

His dad still knew what name Chuck had been about to speak. They both knew but Chuck wasn't comfortable admitting to it. Relying on someone else to that extent – to be dependent on someone else for his happiness and recovery – was not the way to go. Chuck knew himself well enough to recognise that.

Besides, Raleigh had Mako. Chuck didn't fit into that equation. Raleigh barely even liked him. Raleigh deserved to get a shot at something better than feeling obligated to help a fellow Ranger just because Chuck had gotten hurt during a mission they ran together.

It was better this way.

For all of them.

"I'm not so sure about that," his dad replied, voice low and concerned. Chuck hadn't even noticed that he said those last couple of words out loud.

He closed his eyes, leaning back in his seat, taking comfort in Max's presence – the way his wrinkly head was pillowed on top of Chuck's right foot. The helicopter was humming around them, getting ready for takeoff.

Chuck wasn't even sure if his dad heard his answer.

"I am."

It was a nice house. Chuck honestly hadn't been too sure considering that certain parts of Sydney weren't exactly in tip top shape after the still fairly recent Kaiju attack – the one he and his dad had averted just before they left for Hong Kong – but it really was a nice house. Neat. Prim. Orderly. It clashed so much with Chuck's image of himself that it ended up making him feel right at home. He knew it didn't make sense but there was something comforting in the way it was nothing like what he had experienced the past couple of years.

He still had vague memories of what it had been like growing up with his mum and dad but it was too distant to really hurt. It wasn't the same house. This one was a little too Spartan and not very well furnished but it still seemed fresh and open. Inviting.

Or perhaps Chuck was just looking for somewhere to belong.

Either way he liked the house and so did Max. The yard outside wasn't big but enough for one lumbering bulldog and while Chuck couldn't see or hear the ocean it was close enough that a short walk would take him there. Not that he knew if he ever wanted to see it again. The Breach might be closed but there was still a nagging worry at the back of his mind that the Kaiju might come back.

So it would probably take a while before he felt entirely comfortable looking out over the ocean again.

They settled in fairly quickly, even if his dad was away most of the time, still tied up in the dismantling of the active parts of the PPDC. Chuck didn't mind. He kept himself busy with doctor's appointments and meetings with therapists of various kinds the first two weeks, refusing to let his dad handle it when Chuck was fully capable of doing it himself. He was still forced to rely on the wheelchair most of the time when he wanted to get around but he could bloody well make phone calls and send emails without his dad's supervision.

Chuck avoided their neighbours at all cost, partly because he didn't want to be recognised – which was pretty much a given considering how often his face had been plastered over the news these past couple of years – but even more so because he didn't want to feel a need to be social or polite. Talking to his new therapist and the stray conversations with his dad was more than enough.

It wasn't that Chuck was trying to isolate himself but he kind of liked the peace and quiet. One would think that he had gotten enough of that when he was trapped in his hospital bed but this was a different kind of peace and quiet. A soothing one.

He was pretty certain that Herc was responsible for the lack of journos. They had to be dying to get an interview with Chuck by then but his dad never brought it up – never even mentioned it. There were clearly other things to prioritise and Chuck was free to enjoy the beginning of his recovery in almost complete anonymity. It felt surprisingly good. He really didn't want to be in the limelight, at least not anymore.

He liked being able to just fucking relax for once.

So when he wasn't off obeying his gruelling schedule of physical therapy he spent a lot of his time just sitting on the veranda doing fuck all, Max sprawled lazily at his feet. It wasn't something Chuck ever thought he would enjoy considering how rarely he let himself wind down and sit still for more than a couple of minutes at a time, but it felt surprisingly comfortable. Not only because he had a hard time walking without some kind of aid but mostly because didn't feel as high-strung anymore.

He actually _could_ enjoy the stillness if he wanted to. No alarms were going to start blaring, warning him of an approaching Kaiju attack and he didn't need to be ready to gear up in his Drivesuit without a moment's notice. He could, for the first time in years, appreciate the absolute calm of not being constantly at the ready. He felt a little lost, sure, because he barely even remembered what it was like not to be a Ranger, but it came surprisingly easy once he put his mind to it.

That's not to say that he was slacking off. If anything he was trying a little bit too hard, wanting to get better as soon as possible, almost to the point that his physical therapist had to forbid him to keep doing his exercises.

Some days Chuck listened, others he didn't. He figured it evened out in the long run, even if there were nights when he worked himself so hard he could barely sleep afterwards, his entire body aching with the strain. Max gave him reproachful, judging looks from his doggy bed those times, sighing heavily as if to point out just how foolish Chuck was being.

Chuck ignored it.

It came as no surprise that the further he got in his physical recovery the better he felt mentally as well. Chuck had always known that those were closely connected and while he knew better than to cancel his appointments with his therapist – his dad would never let him for one – he soon drifted over to putting more effort into regaining his ability to walk rather than poke around in his own head. Chuck was definitely a little fractured and not quite functional but he doubted he'd ever be able to get that fixed.

It didn't take him long at all before he was able to walk with crutches and while he despised the damned things they were easier to manage than a wheelchair. And made him look less stupid. So Chuck endured it, even if he ended up discarding one of them long before he was supposed to. But his dad didn't question it and Chuck soon adjusted to walking with just the one.

He was walking.

Or, well, limping.

Still, it was close enough and Chuck was able to take a very obedient Max for a short walk without getting pulled off balance by a tug on the leash after three weeks of active physical therapy. It hurt like hell and his dad yelled at him for being irresponsible once they got back but no matter what his dad said Chuck just couldn't stop grinning.

He was so fucking proud and once his dad's anxiety settled they ended up slouched on the comfy deckchairs out back with a beer each. Chuck was pretty sure that his medication didn't allow him to drink alcohol but neither of them seemed to care that evening. It was a milestone, even if his dad kept muttering about how stupid it was for days afterwards. Chuck could live with that, because he was finally walking again.

Once that first hurdle was taken care of he seemed to get better rapidly, possibly because Chuck started being more mindful of his own limitations once he had proven to himself and everyone around him that he could beat this thing. He could accept a slower pace now that he knew that it was doable.

There were still days when he was in constant pain, or times when his leg started acting up and he had to revert back to using two crutches – he flat out refused to buy a cane – but he endured that too. Sometimes he had nightmares involving a bright white light and distant flickers of memories that might or might not be his own, accompanied by low, whispering voices. He could never hear the exact words but he always woke up shaking and panting, as if he instinctively knew that they were bad. He usually ended up reading the rest of those nights, too rattled to go back to sleep.

Some days he didn't say a kind word to his physical therapist, communicating only in rude, biting insults to show his anger and get some kind of outlet for the pain. He spent a couple of sessions with his therapist resolutely staring out the window, refusing to speak in any other way than nods and shakes of his head.

And one horrifying, memorable day he lost it completely when he stumbled and crashed to the floor when he tried to reach for a glass in one of the cupboards and couldn't get back up because of the pain. He just lay there with his face pressed against Max's warm side, telling himself that he wasn't crying while Max whined helplessly, trying his best to comfort Chuck even if he could tell that it wasn't working.

Chuck had to wait for his dad to get home and help him back up on his feet. It was obvious that Herc tried not to be intrusive and ask questions about what had happened but he seemed to linger closer to Chuck than usual that evening. And was careful to come home a little earlier after that, as if he wanted to make sure it didn't happen again.

Chuck couldn't blame him.

Despite all those complications Chuck was still getting better. It took time and was definitely not easy but he got better.

The downside with that was that he was left with even more spare time than before and while the peace and quiet was soothing to a certain degree Chuck got bored eventually. He wasn't entirely sure why he ended up searching for online classes on the tablet his dad had gotten him one week after they moved in but he told himself that it wasn't because of Raleigh. Chuck actually did his best not to think of him at all, with more or less successful results.

Raleigh and Mako had to be in Japan by then, probably paying their respects to her dead parents or something like that. Chuck could definitely picture them sharing something intimate and delicate like that.

He bet they were stupidly happy.

Chuck ended up applying to a pile of different classes but he had no idea how lucky he would be when it came to actually being accepted. His academic career hadn't exactly been conventional up until that point but he would totally play the Hero of the Kaiju War-card if he had to. He needed something to occupy himself with and it seemed like a good place to start.

Since his dad was so busy with his work he seemed to miss out on the fact that Chuck was actually doing something productive with his time. Chuck didn't take offense for once. He was actually relieved that he didn't have his dad hanging over his shoulder when he started sorting out his school records, which were admittedly a little spotty considering how early he had entered the Academy.

It took a couple of weeks, several tests to gauge which level he was at and before he knew it he could pick and chose what he wanted to study.

Chuck almost felt a little embarrassed by how excited he was about the whole thing.

He had never cared much for intelligence and wasn't particularly boastful about his own – it was only means to an end for him – but it definitely opened up new opportunities now that he put some effort into it. He found new goals to pursue.

Weeks passed. Chuck was so busy that he barely even noticed.

His leg was getting steadily better even if there was still a slight limp to his walk, most of his scars had healed but remained pale, sharp reminders of what he had been through and he kept himself busy with online classes and reading up on things he had actually forgotten that he enjoyed.

Max was a constant at his side, especially when May rolled around and the temperature started dropping a little, becoming slightly more bearable for the poor critter. Max never did like the heat. They took longer and longer walks and even if Chuck avoided the ocean Max didn't seem to mind where they went as long as they went together.

His dad eventually started spending more time at the house, probably because there wasn't much left of the PPDC by then and while that put some extra strain on Chuck's patience – he still didn't get along with Herc all that well even if they weren't fighting nearly as much as before – they made sure to keep things civil. They rarely talked but found some kind of alternative in the companionable silences they could share while watching telly or lounging out back in their deckchairs.

It was more of a relationship than Chuck had had with his dad since he was eight and he would be a liar if he didn't admit that he liked it.

Chuck actually felt pretty good about his life, all things considered.

Except maybe those times his thoughts strayed to Raleigh but Chuck was getting better at ignoring them. He hadn't heard from Becket in almost two months. It always caused a slight pinch in his chest when he thought about it but he didn't regret his decision.

He felt a lot stronger than he would have if he had allowed himself to lean on Raleigh while getting better. While the support had been nice during the beginning of his recovery Chuck would have weakened himself – become someone he's not – if he had grown to depend on someone else for his happiness. He was glad that he had managed to avoid it.

Chuck didn't need Becket.

That obviously didn't change the fact that a tiny part of him _wanted_ Raleigh, but Chuck had no intention of acknowledging that. Not if he could help it.

Too bad Raleigh didn't seem to get that memo.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know that things might not look all that hopeful as far as the slash goes right now, but I promise you that I know what I'm doing. It all works out great, trust me. Chuck just needs to settle down a little first.
> 
> [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) beta'ed as usual!


	7. Postcards

 

* * *

 

Chuck was fairly adept at not thinking about Raleigh most of the time. He hadn't seen the man in several weeks and they had had a limited amount of contact before that, so there was not much to remind Chuck of him. Not really.

Well, except sometimes when he looked at Max and remembered how Becket used to sneak him into Chuck's hospital room. And that time when he walked past the candy section at the store and found himself stopping, staring at a particular bag of colourful hard candies in simple, clear wrappers. Chuck didn't buy them – hell no – but he was about eighty percent certain that it was Raleigh's brand.

But apart from that he was doing fine.

Chuck could admit, rather reluctantly, that he missed Raleigh sometimes. It had nothing to do with whatever inconvenient emotions he was harbouring for Becket, he just missed the company. He missed the bickering. He missed smiling.

Chuck couldn't help wondering what it would be like to meet Raleigh now, when Chuck wasn't angry, snappish and practically chained to a hospital bed against his will. He could stand and walk again – better for each day that passed – and he felt more at ease and content.

He liked to believe that he was easier to be around.

But he figured he'd never know what Raleigh would think of him now since the odds of them meeting again were slim to none. Becket was off somewhere in the world with Mako, being disgustingly romantic, while Chuck was in Australia. And Chuck liked it in Australia. He had a more fulfilling life than he thought imaginable. He might not have adapted fully to civilian life – probably never would – but he didn't miss the Jaegers as much as he had thought that he would. If he missed anything it was the full use of his left leg, but he could adapt.

He liked his new life. He felt content with his new life. And he thought that was how it would remain too, until the middle of May when he got a postcard in the mail.

He was returning home from a walk with Max, leafing through the mail as he limped up the driveway, Max's leash looped around his wrist. Chuck's knee hurt most of the time, even when he wasn't straining it, but he had at least managed to regain enough muscle mass not to get cramps whenever he moved. It was still a stiff journey from the mailbox to the front door and he had just closed it behind him and Max when he reached the postcard in the pile of envelopes and flyers.

Chuck paused, tossing the other letters aside on the hallway table while frowning at the tacky, printed words offering greetings from Grand Canyon against the backdrop of the iconic, sprawling cliffs. One fraction of a second later Chuck could feel his throat seize up.

He knew what would be on the back even before he flipped the card over to read it.

_You were right – she loved it. Thanks for the advice. R._

Chuck ripped it in two.

He didn't even realise he had done it until he was staring down at the two pieces, feeling the aftershocks of the blinding, burning rage in his gut. Guilt welled up a second later. He placed the back of his hand against his forehead, taking a deep breath while still clutching one piece of the card in each hand. He hadn't meant to do that.

Chuck wasn't an idiot. He knew the difference between Raleigh's intentions and his own emotions. Raleigh was just trying to be nice and share the joy – Chuck knew that was a thing of his. The fact that it only made Chuck feel like throwing up out of jealousy, well, that was another thing entirely. But Raleigh would never do that intentionally.

So Chuck unclasped and tossed Max's leash aside before limping towards the kitchen looking for some bloody tape, Max lumbering after him. It was impossible to hide the tear, no matter how careful Chuck was when he pieced the card back together, but he did his best. It looked fairly presentable and after a moment of hesitation he stuck it to the fridge. He figured that his dad would want to see it since he was no doubt the one who had given Raleigh their address. Chuck sure hadn't, even if the postcard had his name on it. Only his. Not his dad's.

Chuck couldn't help staring at it.

Over two months. He hadn't heard from Raleigh in over two months and when he did it was a postcard from Becket's not-quite honeymoon with Mako. It made sense since Chuck had been the one to suggest it but it still hurt. He still felt like an idiot for putting himself in this position. He only had himself to blame.

Heck, telling Raleigh about his feelings might even have been a better option at this stage since it would probably have made Raleigh back off entirely. But it was always easier to be wiser in hindsight.

Chuck decided to ignore it as well as he could, especially when his dad gave him a confused look when he saw the postcard and consequentially the damage done to it. He didn't ask about it – he must have known that Chuck wouldn't answer anyway – but it was obvious that he was drawing some conclusions without Chuck's input.

Chuck pretended not to notice.

He tried to return back to his by now familiar routine with physical therapy, studying, walks with Max, his other therapy, reading and watching telly, but found himself lingering whenever he passed the fridge. It was stupid – God, he knew it was so fucking stupid – but he couldn't help it. His eyes would automatically be drawn to the bloody postcard. He was pathetic.

The second card arrived a little over a week after the first.

It was equally tacky from some kind of national forest a state or two from Grand Canyon. Chuck didn't really care. The message on the back wasn't much longer than the first and generic enough to make Chuck snort. Raleigh probably chose to write about the weather and how much fun he and Mako were having simply because he knew it would annoy Chuck to have to read about it.

The card still ended up on the fridge next to the first.

It became a thing.

Every now and then - never more than a week apart - Chuck would get a postcard from whatever location Raleigh and Mako were at. The messages written on the back were always banal and pointless but there was something quite adorable about that too. As if Raleigh just wanted to check in even if he didn't have anything to say. The act itself was the important part, not the specific words.

Chuck tried to remain annoyed about the whole thing – he had specifically told Raleigh that he wasn't interested in keeping up their communication – but unless he wanted to ring Raleigh up and tell him to cut it out he couldn't exactly stop the postcards from coming. And a part of him was actually enjoying them quite a bit, even if they kept driving it home, time and time again, just how happy Raleigh and Mako was. Chuck really didn't want to know that.

So yeah, sometimes Chuck felt angry when he stared at the postcards on the fridge, knowing that this was Raleigh and Mako making precious memories together and Chuck was invited as some sort of reluctant witness to their love tour. He couldn't understand why Raleigh kept sending those stupid, ugly postcards, almost like clockwork, when Chuck had nothing to do with them anymore. He wasn't supposed to be a part of their lives.

It fucking _hurt_ that he wasn't allowed to leave it behind.

Sure, Chuck could admit that some were places he wouldn't mind visiting himself but it wasn't exactly the same getting a postcard from a person – one you might be more than a little infatuated with – when they were there with someone else. That was, in fact, pure torture and some days Chuck wanted to rip them all down and toss them in the trash. His chest fucking _ached_ with loathing.

Because while Raleigh sometimes told Chuck to say hi to Herc they were always addressed to Chuck. Raleigh wasn't sending the postcards to the Hansens, oh no – he was sending them to _Chuck_. From all over the world. He singled him out and Chuck didn't want that. He was trying to _forget_ Raleigh. He had made it absolutely clear that he didn't want any contact with Raleigh because he was better off on his own.

But Raleigh didn't listen. He kept sending his cards. And Chuck kept feeling that complicated mix of joy, anger and jealousy whenever he received them.

He didn't realise how obvious he was being until his dad called him out on it, with about as much finesse as you would expect from Marshal Hercules Hansen.

"Are you in love with Raleigh Becket?"

Chuck wasn't sure why on earth his dad felt it necessary to blurt that out at seven in the morning when Chuck had finally managed to drag himself out of bed despite his aching knee, half an hour before he had to leave for his appointment with his physical therapist. The fact that Chuck had just taken a sip of orange juice was sheer sadism on his dad's part though. He probably wanted to see if Chuck would incriminate himself by choking on it.

Chuck didn't, because he was much better at controlling his reactions and impulses by then. All he did was to swallow and calmly lower his glass, careful to remain expressionless and relaxed. One wrong move and he could potentially give himself away.

"Have you gone bloody bonkers, old man?"

"Don't call me that," his dad replied automatically, seated by the kitchen table with the remains of his breakfast in front of him, blatantly ignoring Max who was begging for scraps at his feet. "It's a legitimate question."

Chuck put down his glass and leaned the small of his back against the kitchen counter behind him, taking some of the weight off his leg. It was something he did instinctually by then, to save himself as much pain as he possibly could.

Chuck rubbed a hand over his face before pinching the bridge of his nose.

" _How_ is that a legitimate question?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Also, I like to point out that it sounded more like an accusation than a question. Just for the record."

"It's either Raleigh or Mako. And I know it isn't Mako."

Chuck paused for a second before shaking his head, as if trying to clear it from his dad's ludicrous ideas. He threw his hands up.

"Okay, I'm not even going to try and follow your logic here."

Chuck was just about to push off from the counter when his dad spoke up.

"You act like you did with that J-tech guy years ago. John."

"Josh," Chuck corrected automatically, voice laced with barely contained contempt. But he did stop, eyeing his dad warily. "And I wasn't barely eighteen then, Dad."

Herc shrugged, maintaining eye contact as if this was some kind of interrogation. Knowing Chuck's dad it probably was.

"You still act the same. I don't need the Drift to know when you're moping because you're in love with someone you think you can't have."

Chuck took a deep breath, attempting to count to ten, but he barely even got to two before he succumbed to his need to defend himself.

"Okay. A: I do not mope. B: I'm not in love. And C: I really don't think you're a good judge of who I can or cannot have."

"Better than you are, apparently."

Chuck frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His dad rolled his eyes.

"Never mind. Just answer the question, Chuck." Herc leaned forward, expression serious as he braced his elbows against the tabletop. It looked like he was talking about a threat to their national security, which Chuck might actually have found funny if the situation and subject had been different.

"No," Chuck lied rather blatantly, "I'm not in love with Raleigh Becket."

A disappointed sigh from his dad.

"Really, Chuck? You think I can't tell when you're lying?" He sounded reproachful.

Chuck didn't answer, stubbornly clenching his jaw in obvious challenge.

Herc did not disappoint.

"Just like I could tell that you were lying when you took the blame for Max's unsanctioned visits to your hospital room. I know it was his idea and you lied to protect him." Chuck swallowed, keeping his front of cool indignation if only because it hid his growing nerves. His dad's gaze seemed to pin him in place. "You don't do that, Chuck, not unless they really matter to you."

"So what of it?" Chuck snapped, knowing that there was no use trying to deny it further. Herc knew him too well. "You're going to tell me what a stupid idea it is? Because I already know that. Why do you think I tried to get as far away from him as possible?"

"Because you're an idiot, but that's an entirely different conversation."

"Oi!" Chuck barked in offense.

"The point is," his dad carried on, clearly ignoring Chuck's angry outburst, "that I just wanted to know. You've been acting strange lately – ever since you started getting those postcards – so I figured it had to do with either Raleigh or Mako."

"It could be Mako," Chuck muttered, just to be defiant.

Herc raised an eyebrow, leaning down to scratch Max's ear without taking his eyes off Chuck.

"Even if she wasn't a girl you wouldn't be interested in her – not like that."

Well, he wasn't wrong. Mako was certainly more badass than Chuck sometimes gave her credit for but she was still too polite and controlled. Like a perfect, neat little package of competence and determination. Chuck would never go for that. He needed clashing tension, explosive emotions and someone who wouldn't hesitate to punch back when Chuck got too violent or too stubborn.

Someone like Raleigh.

Fuck.

"Alright, you've got a point," Chuck admitted reluctantly, posture stiff with suspicion. "What's it to you? You're gonna tell him about it? You've already given him our address, perhaps you want to out your only son too while you're at it?"

His dad gave him a deadpan look.

"Stop being so overdramatic."

"I'll stop being overdramatic when I know that you'll stop meddling in my personal life. We might live in the same house but I'm not ten. This really isn't any of your business, especially since Raleigh is a thing of the past."

His dad gave the postcards on the fridge a pointed look.

"Alright, fine – for me it is. I refused to give him my address, remember? It's not my fault if he keeps sending updates."

It was with a heavy, tired sigh that Herc rose from his chair, Max springing to his feet, probably because he knew that a walk was in his immediate future.

"I think that you're missing the point, Chuck," his dad said calmly, but his smile seemed almost pitying. "You keep getting stuck on irrelevant things. You shouldn't be asking yourself why he ignores your wishes to cut ties or even why he started sending those cards in the first place. You should be asking yourself what could make a man so devoted that he keeps doing it week after week even when he knows that you might not even be reading them."

Chuck blinked in confusion. How was he supposed to know that? He had no idea what Raleigh was thinking. He never had and probably never would, especially not concerning something like this.

His dad seemed to realise as much judging on how he rolled his eyes.

"Just-... think about it. You're a smart kid. It shouldn't be too hard."

The problem was that it actually was pretty fucking difficult, at least for Chuck. There was no doubt that Herc was implying that Raleigh had an emotional motive or attachment of some kind, but Chuck just couldn't wrap his head around it. There was no way he would be able to actually acknowledge and process what his dad was trying to tell him. It clashed too much with everything Chuck had been telling himself the past couple of months. He couldn't do it.

Chuck nodded faintly when his dad announced that he was taking Max for a walk and ended up being so caught up in the questions floating around his head that he arrived late for his physical therapy appointment. Because it really was a good question. The first postcard made sense since Chuck had been the one to suggest that they go there, but Raleigh didn't have to send the rest. Not so often and not so many.

It was confusing.

And Chuck was going to punch his old man for putting thoughts like that into his head.

Herc didn't bring it up again. A part of Chuck had expected him to since it was not everyday you found out that your son was harbouring feelings for one of the heroes from the Kaiju War, but his dad seemed to take it fairly well. He didn't even seem particularly surprised, which did nag a little at Chuck's curiosity, but he had no intention of pushing his luck and actually ask about it.

He just acted normal. It was no big deal. He refused to get stuck on what his dad had said about Raleigh and his intentions and kept focusing on his recovery.

In July Chuck was able to convince both his dad and his therapist that he didn't need more than one session a week to ensure his mental stability and he had less scheduled meetings with his physical therapist and more exercises he could do on his own. Some days he wanted to push his luck and attempt to run or at the very least jog around the block, but he knew better than to try. He'd only feel worse if he ended up not being able to, and Max really didn't mind the relaxed, easy pace of their walks. But that might be because Max was fairly lazy when he was allowed to be.

Just around the beginning of August Herc found out about all the studying and stray courses Chuck had been taking. Not all of them were useful or connected to an actual school to the extent that they were allowed to offer him an official grade, but his dad seemed impressed all the same. Confused and a little baffled, sure, but not against the idea. He even suggested that Chuck start looking for something he would like to study fulltime – as in getting himself an actual education. The pension the PPDC was paying him could easily cover any and all expenses.

Chuck hadn't quite dared to devote himself to the idea before, mostly because he had been so focused on his recovery. But now, when he was pretty much independent again, functional without crutches or too many painkillers?

He could do it.

Probably.

The thought of going to school – to attend classes and be around supposed peers – was honestly quite terrifying because Chuck knew that they would be nothing alike. They were all from a generation that couldn't remember much besides the Kaiju war but they still had different experiences from it. Chuck had been at the front lines. How was he supposed to relate to other people his age, especially when he knew that he wasn't particularly adept at social interaction to begin with?

He'd stick out like a sore thumb, if not for being a former Jaeger pilot and practically known throughout the entire world then because he was such an arsehole.

So while it was a good idea he needed some time to get used to the thought before he committed himself to it. He might be brave enough to fight the Kaiju in towering, high-tech robots but that had been something he knew how to do – one of the few things he knew, as a matter of fact. This was something else entirely and he wasn't impulsive enough – at least not anymore – to throw himself into it without first thinking it through.

He liked to believe that he had learned his lesson when it came to that.

Chuck was so focused on his internal dilemma that he didn't consider the fact that maybe his dad hadn't brought up the Raleigh situation again because he was planning something. Herc didn't usually give up that easily. Chuck really should have remembered that.

As it was he was completely blindsided by the sound of the ringing doorbell one lazy afternoon.

No one rang the doorbell at their house.

They didn't have visitors. Some knew who lived in their house – it was rather impossible to keep it from their neighbours – but people still never visited, not even journos or crazy fans. Perhaps because neither of them looked particularly friendly, with the possible exception of Max.

Chuck had every intention of ignoring the call at the door until Max shot off with an ecstatic bark, claws rasping against the floor. Chuck winced when he heard the loud thump of Max running into either the front door or a wall. Hopefully not face first. Max still forgot that the floors weren't grated, rough metal from time to time and kept sliding into things when he picked up speed and didn't manage to slow down in time. Chuck would never admit it out loud but it was fucking hilarious to watch his dog brain himself on walls and furniture on a regular basis.

Chuck approached the door with more dignity, partly because he still couldn't walk all that fast, but mostly because he was pretty certain what would await him on the other side. Max obviously knew the person or persons – and was very happy to have them there – and it sure as hell wasn't Chuck's dad.

Chuck didn't give himself time to hesitate before he reached out and opened the door, heart beating against his ribcage.

The sight of Raleigh's happy, hopeful face was enough to make Chuck's breath catch.

That just wasn't fair.

"Hi." Despite the fact that Raleigh seemed to be almost vibrating with excitement the look in his eyes and the sound of his voice was achingly, breathtakingly soft – his smile sweet and fond. "You look good."

Chuck didn't know what to say. He could only stare, completely ignoring Max who was jumping around their feet, trying and failing to catch Raleigh's attention. Raleigh was looking at Chuck.

Fucking hell.

It took a couple of seconds before Chuck was able to avert his gaze, clearing his throat a little awkwardly. Shit. He was being far too obvious. He felt like he was sixteen again.

When he looked back up Raleigh was still smiling, bending down to finally give Max the ear scratches he clearly thought that he deserved. Chuck noted, with a fair share of surprise, that Mako wasn't there. It was just Raleigh, with his tousled hair, ugly jumper and that gigantic, disfigured duffel of his tossed over one shoulder. Chuck had to remind himself to keep breathing.

"I can't believe you'd wear one of those woolly jumpers here. This is Australia, mate," Chuck said, in lack of better comebacks – or rather to avoid saying something even more embarrassing.

Raleigh grinned, eyes sparkling with joy as he straightened. He looked so carefree and happy that Chuck almost wanted to slam the door in his face, just to give his poor heart some time to recover.

Shit.

"Well, I wasn't in Australia when I got on the plane, was I?" Raleigh replied cheekily, hoisting his duffel higher on his shoulder with a practiced, careless shrug. "I was in the northern hemisphere."

"That actually makes it worse, Ray. It's _summer_ in the northern hemisphere."

"Details. And it's Raleigh."

Chuck tried to ignore the fact that Raleigh had obviously come straight to their house from the airport. He wasn't sure how to deal with that. In fact, he wasn't sure how to deal with anything even remotely related to Raleigh right now.

Chuck's chest was a chaotic mess of warring emotions and impulses and he had no idea how to process the fact that Raleigh was _there_. Right in front of him. He shouldn't be, but he was. Stupid, dorky Raleigh with his adorable puppy dog look and bright, blue eyes.

Fuck this shit.

"Can I come in?" Raleigh asked with an almost teasing smile, nodding to indicate the house beyond the doorway. Chuck swallowed swiftly before stepping aside, allowing Raleigh to pass.

A part of him knew that it was a bad idea but since he had no doubt that his dad was involved in this somehow he knew better than to send Raleigh away. He'd probably get an earbashing for being rude if he did that.

"Why are you here?" Chuck asked as he closed the door after having made sure that Max had followed them inside. Which Max of course had since he was sucking up something terrible to Raleigh, wagging his tail and bumping against Raleigh's legs while drooling all over his boots. Pretty much as socially appropriate as his master, in other words, if in a more doggy-like fashion.

Chuck felt way out of his depth.

"Your birthday is in a week's time so I'm visiting," Raleigh replied easily, curiously looking around as he made his way further into the house. Chuck followed slowly, mostly because he didn't want to reveal the slight limp that still lingered in his steps. He suddenly felt more self-conscious than he had in the past couple of weeks and he was pretty sure that he didn't like it one bit.

"My birthday?" Chuck asked incredulously. Raleigh wasn't wrong – Chuck's birthday was just around the corner – but he didn't get why that would matter to anyone. It barely even did to Chuck and it was his bloody birthday.

"Yeah." Raleigh grinned, lifting the strap on his duffel over his head before dumping the bag on the floor, discreetly out of the way but still obviously there. It was difficult to miss what with the sheer size of it and the lack of appropriate furniture to hide it behind.

"And where will you be staying?" Chuck was almost afraid to ask because he suspected that he already knew the answer. Raleigh's pleased smirk said it all. "Really? Here?"

How was Chuck supposed to survive that?

"Yeah."

And how come Raleigh looked so fucking proud of himself?

"I didn't invite you, Ray," Chuck pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. Max was sitting next to Raleigh's feet, grinning that stupid bulldog grin of his, clearly showing what a disloyal, evil little critter he was.

"No, you didn't," Raleigh agreed, his smile mischievous of all things, "but it's your father's house and he did so tough luck, Charlie."

Chuck held back his impulse to complain about the nickname because he knew it wouldn't amount to much. Chuck wasn't stupid. Raleigh only used it whenever Chuck called him Ray one too many times so he had himself to blame.

He fumbled for some other subject, knowing that he'd start feeling awkward if the silence between them lingered for too long.

"Where's Mako?"

"She's back in Japan," Raleigh replied a little distractedly as he went to look out the window, inspecting the yard out back or something. He was almost like a puppy getting used to a new environment. "But she promised to come by soon, hopefully in time for your birthday."

Why the fuck were people trying to congregate at Chuck's house on his birthday? Had someone sent out invitations to a slumber party without alerting him?

But he couldn't very well ask that.

"Wow. Imagine that," he drawled instead. "You're actually separate entities."

Raleigh looked at him over his shoulder, head tilted to one side in confusion.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Chuck shrugged, trying to swallow down the bitter taste at the back of his mouth.

"Just that I didn't know you two could detach from each other. You've practically been joined at the hip since you first Drifted." Even more so since Pitfall. "Understandable, I guess, so I'm surprised you can be away from each other at all."

Raleigh snorted, abandoning the window to walk up and stand in front of Chuck instead.

"She's not my girlfriend."

Wait what?

"She's not?"

Raleigh apparently took Chuck's honest surprise as over-exaggerated sarcasm.

"No, of course she isn't," Raleigh scoffed. "I mean, I adore her and love her – that's never going to change – but Drifting... well, in theory I guess it could make you so close that you'd have a perfect relationship simply because there are no secrets between you. But it also takes away the-..."

Raleigh seemed lost for words.

"Mystery?" Chuck finished hesitantly. He had no idea what was going on.

"Yeah, and the excitement." Raleigh nodded seriously. "There actually is such a thing as knowing someone too well. And while I love every single inch of her I can't see why it would have to be sexual or romantic in nature. I'm completely content and relaxed just knowing that she's there, like any other part of me, just like I'm there for her."

Chuck struggled to find something to say. He had not expected that. At all.

"That's girly," he managed eventually, feeling completely off kilter.

"But true," Raleigh defended.

Chuck chuckled, but not because of what Raleigh had said. Oh no, he was chuckling at his own stupidity. Raleigh and Mako weren't together. Wow. That would have been nice to know a couple of months ago.

"Never said it wasn't, _Rah_ leigh." He couldn't help smiling. A huge weight had been lifted from his chest and had he been anyone else he would probably have been laughing outright. Raleigh and Mako were not a couple.

Fucking _ace_.

Chuck could work with this. He could definitely work with this. If Raleigh wasn't taken then Chuck saw no reason why he couldn't make an attempt to pursue this crazy attachment of his. He might be as delicate and smooth as an anvil when it came to flirting but at least there was less moral issues holding him back. And Raleigh could just say no if he wasn't interested.

This was awesome.

Except, perhaps, the timing. Now was clearly not the time to explore whether or not Raleigh was open to some kind of relationship. Chuck was still vaguely pissed at both Raleigh and his dad for going against his expressed wishes of staying as far away from Raleigh as possible. Never mind that it might not be necessary anymore – it was still the principle of the thing. They had gone behind his back more than once. He had the right to be annoyed.

And if it turned out that Herc had somehow let it slip that Chuck might be more than a little interested in Raleigh then Chuck would make sure that they never found his dad's body. They were in Australia – it was certainly doable.

"So I'm guessing this is my old man's fault?" Chuck asked as he gestured for Raleigh to follow him into the kitchen. He was extra careful to walk as evenly as possible, even if it put more strain on his leg. He didn't want Raleigh to see his limp.

Chuck of course knew that Raleigh probably wouldn't judge – he was too kind for that – but that didn't mean that Chuck liked showing his weaknesses.

"Partly," Raleigh replied. "I asked if I could visit and he told me when would be a good time."

Chuck felt something unidentifiable land in his gut, but it was ugly and burning.

"You talk to my dad often?"

Raleigh must have noticed the curtness in Chuck's voice. He seemed to hesitate before answering, and when he did he sounded careful, as if he knew that he was walking on uneven ground.

"Not that often, no."

Chuck gave him a sharp, firm glare, stopping next to one of the kitchen counters to discreetly lean against it. Raleigh maintained a certain distance between them, probably afraid that Chuck would start throwing punches otherwise, and let out an almost sighing exhale.

"Fine, I admit that I ask Herc about how you're doing because you won't talk to me."

Chuck gritted his teeth and crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

"Good for you. Nice bonding experience, was it?"

Raleigh gave him an exasperated look, running a hand through his hair.

"Can you blame me?"

Chuck could feel some of his anger melt away. It pissed him off, sure, but he hadn't exactly given Raleigh many options.

"No, I guess I can't," he admitted with a slight shrug. Raleigh blinked, stiffening in obvious surprise. He clearly wasn't used to Chuck being agreeable about things, especially not when it meant that it might make him come off as less than perfect.

"What? Really?"

The dumbfounded look on Raleigh's face was pretty hilarious.

"I would probably have done the same."

"You would?"

Chuck couldn't help laughing at the look of adorable confusion on Raleigh's face, but there was a hint of joy too, as if Raleigh liked the thought of Chuck caring enough to actually check up on him, if their roles had been reversed.

"You look like such a fucking dork." Despite the harsh words Chuck was smiling – and so was Raleigh. He was practically glowing, in fact, and Chuck didn't even try to despise him for it.

"I can live with that," Raleigh answered, his tone somewhat difficult to interpret except for the unmistakable fondness.

Max snorted.

Chuck shook his head, still smiling. He had forgotten how easy it was to talk to Raleigh – and how happy it could make him. It was a minefield most of the time, sure, but there was excitement in that too. Chuck liked the challenge.

"My dad has some beer in the fridge. Feel free to drink it all if you want. It's the least he can do for dragging you out here," Chuck offered, feeling some of the tension in his body ease away.

Until the moment Raleigh turned towards the fridge that was. Chuck had forgotten what he had stuck to the front of it. Shit. Fuck.

But he needn't have worried.

The look of almost giddy delight when Raleigh spotted the collection of postcards made Chuck's heart beat faster. How could someone look so happy about silly pieces of white cardboard? Raleigh didn't say anything but he didn't exactly have to either. There was no mistaking his excitement.

It took a second for Chuck to realise why.

Raleigh had thought that Chuck wouldn't keep them.

Chuck felt his chest constrict. Raleigh had thought that Chuck would throw them away, or at the very least not display them so openly. There was an unmistakable hint of surprised pride to Raleigh's smile, as if he couldn't believe that he was important enough that Chuck would bother to keep his ugly, generic postcards.

The smile turned into a confused little frown when Raleigh spotted the one from Grand Canyon though. He raised his hand, trailing his fingers along the taped tear.

"What happened to this one?" The question was so innocently spoken that Chuck wouldn't have been able to tell the truth even if he wanted to. He couldn't admit that he had ripped it in half in anger, only to regret it a second later.

"Max got to it before I did."

It was a bad lie. A transparent, stupid lie that Raleigh obviously saw right through judging on the look on his face. There were no teeth marks or spots from drool so it was obvious that Chuck's dog hadn't tried to eat it.

Raleigh didn't press the issue but he looked slightly concerned – or perhaps just thoughtful. It was difficult to tell and Chuck decided that he'd rather not know.

"I'm glad you kept them."

Chuck cleared his throat, feeling both awkward and embarrassed – neither were emotions he was particularly fond of.

"Don't get girly on me now, Ray."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Charlie."

Chuck chuckled and rubbed a hand over his mouth.

"You are such a piece of shit, you bloody bastard."

"Takes one to know one." Raleigh grinned. "And you use it as a term of endearment. So, since I know that you like me so much, does that mean I get to take Max for a walk?"

Chuck didn't know whether to laugh or just shake his head. But he guessed that Raleigh had some pent up energy to burn after his flight and Max was always up for a walk, the big sucker.

"Sure, go right ahead," Chuck drawled, nodding towards the door. Raleigh seemed almost disturbingly happy to be given permission to take Chuck's dog out.

"Awesome!" Raleigh grinned at Max. "Come on, handsome, let's go for a walk."

Something stuck in Chuck's throat. Since when did Raleigh use Chuck's nickname for Max with that kind of familiarity? They hadn't seen each other in months. It shouldn't come that easily to him, like it was no big deal.

Max didn't seem to notice any difference, barking excitedly before hurrying towards the front door. Raleigh was just a step behind, turning to walk backwards while grinning at Chuck.

"You want to come along?"

Chuck's instant reaction was to say yes but a dreadful, suffocating chill settled in his gut a second later when he realised that he wouldn't be able to keep up. His leg was fine most of the time and he could walk without aid but it was never fast or far. He would only slow them down.

He swallowed down the humiliating taste of failure and shook his head, making sure to smile despite the frustration building under his skin.

"Nah, I have better things to do."

Raleigh didn't linger – didn't seem to notice – and Chuck was grateful. He offered a sloppy wave to Raleigh's departing salute and remained where he was, leaning against the kitchen counter, until he heard the door close behind Raleigh and Max.

Chuck closed his eyes and rubbed both hands over his face. Fuck. His chest was tight with shame. He had almost forgotten about his damned leg. His hands wandered further, into his hair, and Chuck exhaled slowly, achingly.

He could live with the fact that Raleigh was apparently there to visit and Chuck was definitely going to explore his opportunities now that it turned out that Raleigh was not together with Mako. But underneath all that Chuck felt a twinge of insecurity. He hated insecurity.

How was he supposed to keep up with his fucking leg?

Raleigh was just like Chuck, brimming with energy and purpose, even if Raleigh was clearly better at being slow and gentle when the occasion called for it. Still, he was active and often in motion, but Chuck couldn't do that, not anymore. He'd fall behind. For the first time since he really started engaging himself in his recovery Chuck felt like a cripple again.

Was it even worth trying?

Chuck snorted before straightening. He hated feeling sorry for himself. It was pathetic. Moping never solved anything. He would just have to try and if it didn't work he could always kick Raleigh out of the house.

That settled Chuck pulled his phone from his pocket, typing out a quick text to his dad.

_I'm going to kill you_

Chuck wasn't the least bit surprised that it didn't take all that long before Herc replied. The old bugger probably knew exactly when Raleigh would arrive and had expected some kind of reaction from Chuck sooner or later.

_No you won't_

Chuck pursed his lips.

_I definitely will. I hate you_

The reply took slightly longer that time, giving Chuck enough time to limp to the fridge and stare at the postcards attached to it for a couple of seconds. Raleigh's stupid postcards.

His phone vibrated in his hand.

_You'll thank me later_

Chuck rolled his eyes. His dad should know better than to meddle in Chuck's private affairs, no matter how well-meaning he might be. It only pissed Chuck off.

_Too busy drinking all your beer_

Because Chuck wasn't below taking petty revenge, not when his dad did these kinds of things.

He had pulled out two bottles of beer – not very good beer, admittedly, but you couldn't be picky considering that fighting and winning the war had been more important than keeping the alcohol production rolling – when his phone vibrated again. Chuck looked down, cursing under his breath when he read his dad's reply.

_Don't forget to share with Raleigh_

Some day Chuck would definitely punch his old man for being such a bloody smartass, but that day was not today. For now he settled for shoving his phone back into his pocket and relocating to his favourite deckchair, beer bottles in hand. He had no idea when Raleigh and Max would be back but Chuck figured that he could always tell Raleigh to fetch his own if Chuck had time to finish both.

He took a seat, slumping down with a tired sigh.

This was a lot more excitement than Chuck was used to in one day. And he wasn't entirely sure how this would affect his usual schedule. He felt an instinctive need to hide his leg's shortcomings to Raleigh but Chuck knew that he wouldn't be able to, not if Raleigh was going to be staying at the house. He'd be able to tell that Chuck was still on painkillers and walked with a slight limp.

Chuck snorted. He would just have to worry about that later.

For now he uncapped one of the bottles, took a sip and pulled his tablet closer, propping it up in his lap. He would pull through somehow. If he could manage to overcome nearly losing his leg then he could deal with this too.

He had faith in himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, they are so dorky and cute that it's ridiculous and I just want to coo and smush their faces together. I honestly don't understand how Chuck can't see where this is going. But I guess that might be because he's not exactly socially competent.
> 
> Also, sorry for the slightly later than usual update. I blame it entirely on my beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum), who happens to be visiting, and she keeps distracting me. Enjoy!


	8. Birthday

 

* * *

 

Chuck wasn't sure what he had been expecting when it came to having Raleigh at the house but it definitely wasn't this. Chuck kept up his usual routines and while Raleigh was sometimes watching telly with him or nagged him into a conversation during breakfast or when they were lounging out back he didn't smother Chuck with his presence either.

Raleigh didn't have much else to do than veg out around the house and sightsee – which Chuck knew that he did when Chuck was away on his therapy appointments – but he didn't seem the least bit bored. He looked surprisingly content, actually. Like he didn't mind that he was pretty much ignored most hours of the day and left completely to his own devices. Chuck wasn't all that well versed in the procedures involving having someone over for a visit but he was pretty sure that he and his dad were terrible hosts – and that Raleigh was just too stupid to notice.

Chuck even sent Raleigh grocery shopping, just to see if he would refuse. But of course he didn't. The dork probably even _enjoyed it_ , just like he loved taking Max for walks. Chuck and Raleigh usually took turns since Chuck outright refused for them to do it together. Raleigh asked three times if he could come along before he seemed to understand that Chuck didn't want company on his walks. If he suspected that it had to do with Chuck's bum leg Raleigh never mentioned it.

Chuck's dad and Raleigh got along just fine, like they always had. They weren't overly chummy – but that might have been because Chuck had a hard time describing Herc as such – but there was no mistaking the effort his dad went through to make Raleigh feel welcome. A suspicious amount of effort, as a matter of fact. And Chuck hated him for it.

There were definitely times when Chuck wanted to throw something at Herc's head because he knew what the old bastard was trying to accomplish by inviting Raleigh there. And he didn't appreciate the matchmaking, no matter how well-meaning it was.

Still, Chuck couldn't deny that he had a lot of fun with Raleigh. They didn't do much since Chuck was always careful to keep his physical movements to a minimum in front of Raleigh but they talked a lot. And laughed a lot – almost as much as they bickered. They were obviously never going to grow out of that, no matter how much his dad kept rolling his eyes at their juvenile arguments.

Chuck also found out that Raleigh apparently could wear something besides his ugly jumpers, even if he was admittedly a little distracted by the sight of Raleigh in a t-shirt or a semi-tight singlet. But it was fairly certain that anyone would be, in Chuck's defence.

Raleigh still had his pockets full of lollies but unlike before when it had been either out of nerves or used to appease Chuck's temper – which was rather insulting in so many different ways – Raleigh now seemed to eat and share them when he was happy. He didn't chew them anymore either, but actually gave himself time to savour them. Chuck was pretty sure there were a lot of interesting psychoanalytic conclusions to draw from that kind of change in behaviour, but eventually decided not to pursue it.

Raleigh still gave Chuck mostly green and orange ones.

So all in all Chuck was happy. He relaxed around Raleigh, in all aspects except maybe the state of his leg. Raleigh seemed to relax too and some of the visible strain on his face melted away the longer he stayed. Chuck couldn't help wondering if he was the cause for it and if so what it meant.

It was funny, in a way, that they seemed to have that effect on each other. Chuck had figured that they would keep arguing like they always had, but they didn't. There was bickering and a fair share of nagging, yes, but no arguments. They spent days in each other's presence and Chuck still hadn't said anything rude enough to truly piss Raleigh off.

Perhaps it was Chuck having learned a lesson or perhaps both of them were just less pressured and tense. He was sarcastic and snarky, sure, because he would never stop being that, but he rarely – if ever – felt a need to lash out like he had a couple of months ago. It wasn't that he held himself back, he just genuinely didn't feel a need to be nasty.

Everything seemed to be going well. Chuck was free to do what he wanted but had company if he felt like it and Raleigh seemed to appreciate the downtime. Max loved the extra attention.

But there were bound to be complications.

It took about four days before Chuck ran into a wall when it came to hiding his limp from Raleigh. He had managed so well up until then but a particularly straining appointment with his physical therapist and one missed step when he walked up the driveway was enough to leave him gritting his teeth in pain. He wanted to just slump down into a heap on the couch, but when he came inside Raleigh was watching telly with Max at his feet.

Fuck.

"Welcome back." Raleigh never asked how Chuck's appointments went, possibly because he knew that he wouldn't get an answer anyway.

Chuck could only nod, maintaining a straight posture by sheer force of will alone. Max came lumbering towards him with a welcoming bark but Chuck couldn't bend down, not without risking blacking out from the pain. So he just smiled faintly at his dog before walking to the kitchen. He had painkillers there. If he only made it to the kitchen he'd be fine.

He was grinding his teeth together so hard it hurt but he made it to his destination without faltering. That was surely an achievement, even if his knee almost buckled the moment he was out of Raleigh's sight. Fucking hell.

Chuck tried to breathe calmly, supporting himself against the counter to take some weight off his leg. It hurt like a bitch and he had to stop before he even reached the right cabinet. His heart was beating furiously in his chest, in time with the radiating pain in his knee. It was pathetic.

_He_ was pathetic.

He leaned slightly forward, bracing both of his hands against the counter and let his head drop in defeat. Breathing through the pain was somewhat easier when he closed his eyes, as if it helped not being able to see the sad state he was in.

He had been putting more strain on his leg than usual these past couple of days in an attempt to hide it from Raleigh, so perhaps it wasn't a surprise that this happened. Chuck still hated it. He hated that he was dependent on painkillers and that he couldn't do what he wanted. He was so bloody frustrated.

Chuck's shoulders stiffened when he heard footsteps behind him.

Raleigh.

Chuck didn't move – he couldn't even if he wanted to – steeling himself for whatever Raleigh was going to say. The pity he'd hear in his voice.

But Raleigh didn't say anything. Chuck could hear him walk up, open a cabinet and pull out what Chuck knew had to be his painkillers.

Humiliation flared in Chuck's chest.

When he felt a hand land on his arm he found himself reflecting on the fact that Raleigh and Chuck never really touched each other. Not that Chuck and his dad did that a lot either but there was still a difference. Perhaps because it made that simple gesture feel all the more significant – and insulting.

Raleigh only touched him when he thought that Chuck was being weak and needed help.

He yanked his arm out from under Raleigh's hand, even if it forced him to suck in a sharp breath when it almost made him lose his balance. He didn't want Raleigh's help. He didn't _need_ Raleigh's help. Not like this.

"Chuck-"

"Piss off you fucking wanker," Chuck hissed through his teeth, trying to pour as much vehemence into his words as possible. Raleigh sighed.

"Cut it out."

Chuck refused to look at him. He refused to do anything.

"I honestly don't get what you're trying to accomplish. I know you've been trying to hide what shape your leg is in. You think I care? That I think you're weak because you need painkillers?" Raleigh sounded insulted of all things. Chuck was pretty sure that Raleigh didn't have the right to do that in the current situation. "You should know better."

"I don't want your pity!" Chuck barked, palms flat against the counter even if he felt like reaching out and strangle Raleigh right then and there.

"I don't pity you. I think you're an idiot. A colossal, fucked up idiot who thinks it's wiser to torture himself than allow himself to be vulnerable."

Chuck opened his eyes, staring down at the countertop. He could see Raleigh in the corner of his eye, leaning almost casually against the sink, turning the bottle of pills in his hand.

"Why do you think I haven't said anything before?" Raleigh asked, his tone deceptively light.

"How the fuck should I know?"

"Because you don't need my help," Raleigh replied easily, as if it was the obvious answer. He sounded like he meant it. "You're doing fine on your own. Sure, you hide your limp – which I still don't get – but I haven't asked about it or offered to help you because I know that you don't need it."

Raleigh turned towards him and Chuck couldn't help looking up, meeting his gaze.

"Until now." Raleigh held up the pills between them, a slight but fond smile on his lips. "And the fact that I help you now doesn't mean that all of your progress up until this point means nothing or that I pity you. It just means that sometimes, when you need it, I'll be here. I know it won't be often because I know _you_ , and I know that you'll be fine on your own, but I'll be here, just in case. Okay?"

Chuck took a slow breath before nodding. Christ. He still had no idea how Raleigh could find the words to express things like that. He could make things sound so obvious and heartfelt with so little effort. And Chuck believed him. There was a kind of sincerity to the things that Raleigh said that not even someone as socially impaired as Chuck could miss out on.

"You're still a bloody bastard," Chuck muttered as he reached out to take the pills from Raleigh. He had to pause when Raleigh held on though, their fingers touching around the small bottle.

"I would never pity you, Chuck. I want you to know that."

Chuck swallowed discreetly, trying to ignore that his heart was suddenly beating much faster. He didn't know what to answer, not when Raleigh was looking at him like _that_. All serious but still unmistakably affectionate. Chuck's throat felt dry.

In the end he could only nod, not finding the right words no matter how hard he tried. Raleigh smiled, releasing his grip around the pills. Chuck had to fight a shiver when their fingers brushed and it wasn't made any easier by how Raleigh placed his hand on Chuck's arm instead, lingering a little longer than strictly appropriate.

Chuck couldn't help wondering what Raleigh would do if he kissed him.

But he never got the chance to. Raleigh pulled back – with an almost tender smile – and was walking toward the living room before Chuck had time to act.

He gathered enough of his wits to call out to him though.

"Hey, Raleigh?" Chuck looked over his shoulder, meeting Raleigh's gaze. Chuck had to clear his throat but managed a tentative smile. "Thanks."

Raleigh's responding smile was surprisingly enough not wide or particularly blinding. No, it was soft and gentle – private – and made Chuck's heart stutter in his chest.

"You're welcome."

Chuck knew that Raleigh could say more – there had to be thousands of corny replies he could finish that sentence with – but he didn't. He just kept smiling, his eyes shining with something Chuck couldn't name, before he turned to head back to the awaiting telly.

Chuck had to remind himself to keep breathing.

It was admittedly somewhat tentative when Mako arrived the day before Chuck's birthday. Raleigh was beside himself – which was expected – and Chuck's dad was polite and all, but Chuck felt, well, _uncomfortable_.

He knew Raleigh and Mako weren't a couple but they were still incredibly close. Chuck wasn't sure if it was the time spent together travelling the world or the time spent apart but they seemed closer than ever. Not in a touchy feely way, thank God, but emotionally. They were on a separate wavelength from the rest of them and it seriously freaked Chuck out how in tune they were with each other sometimes.

Sure, he and his dad were pretty aware of each other most hours of the day and felt flashes of Ghost Drifts even now, but that was nothing compared to Raleigh and Mako. Or perhaps they just were that good friends? Chuck wouldn't know since he had never had any.

He guessed it was good that Raleigh had someone to spend time and see the sights with though, considering that Chuck had outright refused. He had stretched as far as allowing Raleigh to come with him on walks with Max but that was it. Chuck was not going to _sightsee_ with Raleigh bloody Becket.

Mako was a lot more enthusiastic.

Chuck was actually rather surprised by how much she seemed to have grown since he last saw her. Not physically of course but in her confidence and general demeanour. She was definitely still in mourning but the months spent not having to worry about Kaiju attacks had obvious been good for her, making her more grounded and less haunted. Peacetime suited her.

Her and Raleigh both, actually.

They were obviously carrying a lot – so was Chuck and his dad – but it was a relief to see that they had been able to let some of it go. They actually managed to look forward to a life after the war.

Chuck decided to stick to the sidelines to avoid infringing on Raleigh and Mako's private time, mostly because he didn't want to embarrass himself by squeezing in where he wasn't welcome. He wasn't sure if Raleigh intended to leave when Mako did – she was set to return to Japan in two days – but Chuck assumed that he would. Which was a bit of a disappointment since Chuck had almost managed to figure out a way how to approach Raleigh on the subject of them trying out some kind of relationship.

Under normal circumstances Chuck would have ignored to plan ahead and just gone for it, but this time he was honestly afraid of what would happen if he did. He didn't want to rush in only to realise that he fucked up because of it. He wanted it to work out so badly that he was prepared to be a little strategic and cautious about it.

But he had apparently taken too long. Raleigh would leave with Mako and who knew when they'd see each other next time?

Because Chuck outright refused to do anything while Mako was there. He knew that he didn't need to feel defensive or competitive but he still did. It felt like he couldn't possibly compete for Raleigh's attention when she was there and while admitting defeat wasn't something Chuck usually did he knew a lost cause when he saw it.

It might be strictly platonic but Raleigh and Mako only had eyes for each other.

Chuck could live with that. He was a little bitter, sure, but he could live with it.

Then his birthday arrived. Chuck was prepared for it to be like any other day since he couldn't really figure out why it wouldn't be, but he could tell that it somehow wasn't. Mostly because of how the other people in the house behaved.

Max was fine. He was completely normal, drooling and grumbling and sucking up to Mako to get belly rubs. But Chuck's dad came home earlier than usual from work and decided the fire up the barbie – which they had never done before even if they had had it since they moved in – and Raleigh and Mako had been _baking_ the entire afternoon while throwing conspiring looks at each other.

Chuck might not be well versed in birthday celebrations but he was pretty certain that there was going to be some kind of lame attempt at a party. Of five, counting the dog. Pathetic, really, but he couldn't help observing them as they went about their business, curious about what they were planning.

It was strangely fascinating, like a glimpse into weird, strange rituals he had no understanding of.

And yeah, he could admit that it was pretty fucking awesome to get to lick the spoon and smile smugly at Raleigh while doing so, since Mako had been the one to decide who got it and she clearly favoured the birthday boy. And didn't seem to judge Chuck when he slapped Raleigh's fingers to keep him from stealing it.

It was a pretty lame party in the end but still nice somehow. There was good food, beer and cake. Chuck couldn't remember when last he had had cake. Besides, none of them tried to give him any presents, for which he was infinitely grateful. It would only have made him awkward. Not to mention that he couldn't think of anything he'd need – not from them.

As corny and silly as it sounded he was much more inclined to just appreciate their company – even his dad's, which was a bit of a surprise.

So Chuck had a good time. Celebrating your birthday was actually kind of nice when you could do it without having to worry about Kaiju attacks. The last couple of years Chuck had mostly just tried to ignore it because he was busy with something else and his dad had only made feeble attempts to acknowledge Chuck's birthdays. More often than not they had just decided not to bother.

Chuck wasn't sure what was different now but it was obvious that something had changed.

Herc seemed more invested in Chuck and his well-being in general. If it was because Chuck had almost died or because they were not at war anymore Chuck didn't know, but his dad definitely put more effort into being there, and not just physically. It was odd but still heart warming and left Chuck feeling a little embarrassed. And hopeful.

He liked it.

He liked spending time with all of them, birthday or not.

His dad soon left 'you kids', as he put it, out back while he relocated to the couch inside. Chuck didn't mind. While there was a slight chill in the air once the sun had set he still found it oddly comfortable just sitting there, staring out at nothing.

Mako looked particularly adorable in one of Raleigh's jumpers, which he had chivalrously offered her when she seemed a little cold. It was clearly too big for her but she looked warm and cosy and Chuck couldn't help smiling a little at that. She and Raleigh were sharing a deckchair, Mako curled up where people were usually supposed to sit while Raleigh occupied the space where her feet should have been. They weren't touching but still managed to give the illusion of incredible intimacy.

And yes, Chuck was a little jealous.

"So have you decided to pick up studying?"

Chuck was a little surprised by Raleigh's sudden question. He shot Mako a quick look but she just kept smiling. There was a slight moment of hesitation where Chuck wasn't sure if he wanted to answer, but then he realised how silly that was. It wasn't bad that he had plans for the future.

"Yeah. Engineering or biology. Haven't decided which yet."

"Biology?" Mako asked, her voice soft and a little sleepy.

Chuck nodded.

"Not sure what specific branch yet. Maybe something that will let me work with the Kaiju blue research. There're still few known ways to counteract the toxin."

Mako smiled and Chuck felt a little bashful all of a sudden. He cleared his throat after taking a sip from his beer.

"I guess my therapist would have a field day with that." His smile was derisive. "I keep fighting the Kaiju even after the war is over... but I'd like to do something useful, that's all." Chuck wasn't sure why he was defending himself. Neither Mako nor Raleigh looked particularly judgmental.

"And engineering?" Raleigh asked while rolling his bottle between his palms.

Chuck scoffed.

"Unlike some I didn't just pilot the damned things – I was interested in how the Jaegers moved too." He shrugged. "I like mechanics and technology."

A short silence followed and Chuck couldn't quite read the expression on Raleigh's face. Mako seemed troubled by it though and that was enough to make Chuck feel a sting of guilt. He hadn't meant for it to be an insult – it was just the way he talked.

"I have no idea what I'm supposed to do," Raleigh said after another couple of seconds, staring down at his bottle rather than the two people he was obviously talking to. "With my life, I mean. You're going to study, Mako is going to keep working with the PPDC – what little of it is still active – but I just... I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I can't even run to the Wall this time."

That was awfully melancholy and Chuck gave Mako a look he knew had to come across as rather panicked. He had no idea how to deal with a maudlin Raleigh. It was a complete role reversal. Chuck was usually the whiny one while Raleigh was patient and understanding. Chuck didn't know how to be that and was ashamed to admit that he'd rather dump that responsibility on Mako.

She just frowned though, as if unsure what to do. Chuck knew that had to be a lie – she always knew what to do – but leaving Raleigh hanging wasn't exactly kind.

"So?" Chuck asked, perhaps a little too sharply judging on the way Raleigh's gaze snapped up to meet his. Chuck maintained eye contact, trying not to show how out of his element he felt. "There are other things to build."

Raleigh frowned.

"What?"

"Yeah. You do construction, right? Do you have any idea how many buildings there are that need repairs after Kaiju attacks, just in Sydney alone? You'd be a fucking hero all over again."

Raleigh seemed to hesitate but there was something akin to a smile building on lips.

"I thought you despised the fact that I worked in construction."

Fair enough. Chuck had been pretty open about his dislike for Raleigh's five year old hiatus from piloting, but Raleigh had obviously missed the key point in that.

"I despise the _Wall_ , _Rah_ leigh, and the fact that a Ranger had bad enough judgement to work on it. But the building skills in general? Why the heck would I have anything against that?"

Raleigh paused for a moment before he chuckled.

"If you say so."

"I do. Now shut up and stop moping. It makes you look stupid." Chuck was definitely not very good at comforting people but Raleigh didn't seem to be able to tell the difference judging on his expression. He actually looked happy to be called stupid. What a dork.

Mako was clearly trying to hide her pleased smile but she was doing a piss poor job of it. If Chuck had been any less polite he would have flipped her off. She had definitely done that on purpose.

But Chuck could admit that it was nice to have made Raleigh smile, even if he still looked a little down. Raleigh himself didn't seem to care, soon steering the conversation on to other subjects. Chuck was okay with that. He didn't want to discuss anything emotionally compromising if he had to. It just made him nervous.

Just like Mako's knowing smile made him nervous. Christ. She was supposed to be more subtle that that. Being discreet was her _thing_. Not that Chuck had any reason to hide from her – not even his interest in Raleigh – but he felt that it was a little unnecessary to be so obvious about it. One look at her and you knew that she was gleefully looking forward to her front row seat to watch whatever Chuck and Raleigh's relationship would be in the future.

But in a way Chuck guessed that was a sign of her not being against it. She seemed supportive if anything, possibly to a slightly creepy degree.

Not that he needed her blessing.

Chuck still found himself relaxing, his fingers hanging off the side of his deckchair, scratching Max's ear while he listened to Raleigh and Mako talking.

He felt pretty good.

In fact, he felt great.

Imagine that.

To Chuck's immense surprise Raleigh did not leave with Mako. He saw her off to the airport and moped like an abandoned puppy but for some reason he had decided to stay. Chuck was tempted to ask if he had intended to move in. They had the space, sure, but he figured his dad would have something to say on the matter. But whatever agreement Herc and Raleigh had come to it was obviously still in effect. Raleigh was still welcome and still housed in their guest bedroom.

Chuck didn't mind.

Of course he didn't mind. He liked having Raleigh there – he could admit that now – and it was nice to have someone besides his dad and Max to talk to. But that didn't mean that Chuck wasn't curious about Raleigh's reasons for being there. He could easily have gone with Mako – would probably have felt more at home with her. But he had decided to stay in Sydney.

It took five days after Mako's departure before Chuck cracked and asked about it during his and Raleigh's shared breakfast. Which was fairly impressive for being him – Chuck was not known for his patience.

"Why are you still here?" Chuck admitted that he could have phrased that in a less offensive manner but Raleigh barely even flinched by then, obviously used to Chuck's way of talking.

Raleigh looked up from the newspaper spread out in front of him, seated opposite to Chuck by the kitchen table, a steaming coffee cup next to his elbow.

"What? I didn't tell you?"

Chuck pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'll take that as a no." A wide, happy grin spread on Raleigh's lips. "I'm taking your advice."

Chuck blinked. His advice? When had he given any kind of advice?

"Okay?" He couldn't help sounding dubious. Raleigh pulled his coffee cup closer with a practically beaming smile.

"Yeah. I'm going to help rebuild Sydney. They were in fact looking for more construction workers so I'm going to start in two days. I'm also looking for an apartment and Herc said that it's fine if I stay here until I find one."

It was a testament to Chuck's growing patience that he didn't throw something at Raleigh's head. Like the coffee pot.

"You got a job in the town that I live in. And intend to stay at the same house as me until you can move to your own place." Chuck kept his tone forcibly calm. "How _the fuck_ can you forget to tell me something like that?"

"I don't know. I really thought that I had. Or that Herc would tell you." Raleigh didn't look particularly guilty though so who the fuck knew if he was telling the truth or not?

"Remind me to never entrust you with any kind of vital information."

"I resent that. I'm very trustworthy," Raleigh defended, mock-hurt.

"Selectively trustworthy in that case. It would have been nice to know because I actually happen to care where you-"

Chuck cut himself off, knowing a bad direction for a sentence to take when he saw one.

Raleigh sipped on his coffee but it didn't hide how his smile turned teasing, the glint in his eyes full of mischief.

"Aww... I didn't know you cared, Chuck."

There were so many things Chuck could reply to that but he found it difficult to focus beyond the fact that he felt an unforgivable urge to _blush_ of all things. He wasn't fourteen, for fuck's sake.

"Shut up," he muttered sullenly, reaching down to give Max a piece of bread to avoid having to look at Raleigh. It was a rather nifty trick.

"Hey, you want to go out tonight?"

Chuck glanced up before straightening, a little surprised by the question. And the sudden change in subject.

"You have some errands to run?" Chuck shrugged. "Sure, I can come along."

He had gotten better at admitting that he actually liked Raleigh's company to the extent that he wouldn't mind doing things with him. Grocery shopping was still something they obviously shouldn't try without some kind of supervision though since it always ended with a fight somehow. Last time Chuck had been forced to buy Raleigh a bag of his bloody lollies as an apology for going out to the car in a huff of anger without first letting Raleigh know that he was doing just that. Raleigh had apparently been _worried_ and spared no expenses when it came to giving Chuck a bad conscience for disappearing without a word.

Raleigh was, believe it or not, a bloody spawn of Satan when he didn't get what he wanted.

This time he looked more like a confused, bewildered puppy however, as if Chuck had said something strange and completely unexpected.

"No, I meant go out," Raleigh said with more emphasis but still hurriedly, a nervous hint to his words. He gestured between them, eyes determined. "With me."

Chuck couldn't help that he stiffened and automatically held his breath for a second before he forced himself to exhale. That was not what he had expected. At all.

Really?

Was Raleigh asking what Chuck thought he was asking?

Chuck wasn't blind so yeah, he sort of knew that Raleigh might actually be a little interested back but he hadn't expected him to blurt it out all of a sudden. Chuck had thought that _he_ would be the one to do that.

"What, like a date?" He congratulated himself on keeping his voice at a normal pitch.

Raleigh frowned, which immediately made Chuck's heart drop about all the way to his toes.

"No, like a friendly night out," Raleigh replied, just this side of too sharply.

_Oh_.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Chuck quickly swallowed down whatever had been rising inside him, keeping his expression carefully schooled. That sucked. He had been pretty sure that Raleigh's smiles meant something.

Chuck leaned back, getting ready to rise from his chair. He'd rather not stick around to stew in his own embarrassment.

"Sure." Chuck shrugged again, ignoring that squeezing, crushing feeling in his chest. That's what he got for being such an idiot. He kinda wanted to hate Raleigh for getting his hopes up, no matter if it had only been for a fraction of a second and completely unintentionally. "Just let me go ask Dad if-"

"What?" Raleigh sounded completely gobsmacked, staring at Chuck like he was from an entirely different planet. "Are you-... Chuck, seriously, how dumb are you?"

Chuck gave Raleigh the nastiest glare he could muster. He didn't like being told he was stupid. But before he actually had time to snarl something insulting – partly to hide his own wounded pride at misinterpreting Raleigh's intentions – Raleigh pushed his coffee cup aside and placed his palms flat against the table, as if that would keep Chuck from leaving.

"Of course I meant it like a date, Chuck."

It was Chuck's time to stare.

"How was I supposed to know that?" he snapped in an attempt to buy himself some time. "You said you didn't."

"It's called sarcasm, Chuck. You _know_ sarcasm – I've heard you use it many times." Raleigh didn't seem very impressed.

Chuck didn't feel very impressive.

"Oh." It was the only thing he could think of saying and it made him sound like a complete dork. Raleigh was obviously contagious. Chuck cleared his throat. "So... a date? Really?"

"Yeah." Raleigh's smile was relieved and achingly sweet, like he had finally managed to accomplish something he had wanted to do for ages. He looked so hopeful it actually took Chuck's breath away, no matter how horrendously cliché it was.

This was really happening.

"I don't-..." Chuck couldn't find the words to reply.

He looked up, just in time to see Raleigh's expression fall. It was like someone flipped a switch and every trace of happiness just vanished from his face.

"Oh, that's okay. I just thought that asking wouldn't hurt-"

"Christ! No! I didn't mean it like that!" Chuck interrupted, perhaps a little too harshly. Desperately. "Fucking hell, Raleigh. I just-... could you just give me a second?"

Raleigh blinked and nodded but his expression was still so utterly blank that Chuck had to fight an urge to shudder. He took a deep breath, rubbed a hand over his face before meeting Raleigh's gaze.

"Alright. What I was going to say was that I honestly don't know how to do dates, mate."

"You've never dated?" Raleigh sounded vaguely appalled. Chuck bristled.

"It wasn't like I had time for that, alright? Not like I suspect you're suggesting at least. Between training and Kaiju attacks I didn't exactly manage to squeeze in a lot of social hours. I was barely old enough before the Academy, always trailing after my dad, and after that, well, I was busy. Whatever I had time for was always just casual hook ups."

Raleigh paused for a second but a small, adorable smile spread on his lips soon enough.

"Can't say that my experiences are that much different," Raleigh admitted, meeting Chuck's gaze. "So how about we both throw caution to the wind and give it a try?"

Chuck couldn't help smiling, leaning forward again, bracing his elbows against the table.

"I'm up for it if you are," Chuck challenged playfully.

Raleigh laughed, shaking his head.

"Of course you'd find a way to turn it into a competition." It was said fondly though and the look in his eyes soothed any kind of insult that might have been hiding in his words.

"I still have to ask my dad to look after Max," Chuck went on.

"I don't think he will mind."

Chuck knew for a fact that he wouldn't. This had been what he had aimed for from the very beginning. And Chuck was not going to keep himself from throwing punches if there was even the slightest trace of smugness on his dad's face.

"So what do you want to do?" Raleigh seemed uncharacteristically uncertain when he asked. "Tonight, I mean."

Chuck found it rather endearing that Raleigh was so serious about the whole thing. Chuck was too, he could admit that, but he rarely let things like that show. He still had an image to uphold.

"Just take me to a bar with better beer than the one we have in the fridge."

Raleigh chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, his elbow braced against the table. His smile was dorky and so fucking happy that he was practically beaming.

"Alright, you're on."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. This is what it looks like when two uncommunicative dorks try to flirt with each other. But they got to the important bit in the end and I think it's quite interesting to see how much calmer and nicer Chuck has gotten. He's not as quick to insult people, even if he's still a bit of an ass.
> 
> I'm going to do my best to upload the final chapter and the epilogue on Friday but if I don't manage it's because I'm hiding away in a big house in the middle of nowhere - voluntarily, I might add - with my dad's overenergetic hunting dog as my only company and protection against crazy reindeers. So if the practically non-existent Internet connection fails me I'll upload it on Tuesday instead, but I hope it won't come to that.
> 
> A big hug and thanks to my beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum)!


	9. Happiness

 

* * *

 

In all honesty, Chuck wouldn't call what they were doing a date precisely. Not that he had much experience – he hadn't lied about that – but if this was what dates looked like they were heck of a lot more casual than people had made him believe.

They ate dinner all three of them and gave Chuck's dad very little choice on the matter of who was taking care of Max that night. That is to say that Chuck shouted to Herc that he would have to take Max for his evening walk just as he and Raleigh was leaving. Chuck had come to the conclusion that it would be better to handle his dad's expected smugness that way. Now Chuck didn't have to see it until he and Raleigh arrived back home, whenever that would be, and he would hopefully be too happy to actually punch his old man in the face then.

Neither of them bothered to change clothes or the like, because for fuck's sake, they lived in the same house and there were limits to how girly Chuck would allow either of them to be about this. Chuck could still admit that there was something different about that night.

Partly because he and Raleigh rarely went out in the evenings but even more so because Raleigh couldn't stop smiling. He looked positively demented and Chuck was not late to point it out.

It only made Raleigh look happier.

Chuck was pretty sure that Raleigh had asked Chuck's dad on where to go because he didn't seem to need Chuck's input, which was both a little suspicious and adorable. Raleigh took this seriously. Chuck wasn't usually one to just sit back and let himself be driven somewhere – he was physically incapable of being passive in any part of his life – but the challenge had been for Raleigh to find an appropriate bar and Chuck was not going to help.

Raleigh managed rather well without Chuck, it turned out.

The bar was far from seedy but dark, robust and perhaps a tad bit dirty all the same. Chuck quite liked it, especially since he figured that they'd blend in surprisingly well despite being world known war heroes. People barely gave them a first glance, let alone a second. And if they got stuck on anything it probably wasn't them being former Jaeger pilots but Raleigh's dorky grin. Chuck suspected that Raleigh would never stop looking like a puppy, no matter how old he got.

Chuck pushed Raleigh towards a vacant table at the back, trying but failing to keep a straight face. Raleigh went willingly but was sent to get them both something to drink before he was allowed to sit down. If Raleigh was taking Chuck on a date then he better buy the first round.

Chuck hadn't been quite sure what to expect from that point on since he had never been in that situation before, but it was surprisingly easy. Perhaps he should have known that, considering how he and Raleigh usually functioned. Because it was much like any other evening even if it still wasn't.

They were better at finding things to talk about, and talking lead to bickering which always bled into laughter somehow. The change in scenery – the anonymity – made Chuck speak more openly than usual and despite the fact that he was surrounded by strangers he felt completely relaxed. But perhaps that was because of the way Raleigh kept smiling at him.

Chuck had seen that look on Raleigh's face before but then only ever directed at Mako. He looked like Chuck was the most fascinating being alive, even if he also seemed to think he was the most annoying one.

Chuck didn't know how to deal with that but cautiously allowed himself to embrace the steadily growing feeling of _hope_.

It was a completely foreign concept to him. He wasn't used to people liking him and he certainly wasn't used to socialising with them _because_ they liked him. Not like Raleigh seemed to like him. It left something warm and pulsing in Chuck's chest and some moments he felt a little out of breath, so caught up in the knowledge that Raleigh _wanted_ this. He chose to spend his time with Chuck, not because they were fellow Rangers or because Chuck needed company, but because Raleigh wanted to.

Perhaps that was why Chuck talked so much more than usual – he knew that Raleigh would listen. He knew that whatever he said _mattered_ to Raleigh, one way or another. It didn't have to be meaningful or important but Raleigh cared all the same. And Chuck couldn't help listening to Raleigh in turn, just in case it felt even half as amazing for Raleigh as it did for Chuck. He was genuinely interested in what Raleigh had to say. It was nothing like their previous conversations, even if those were memorable too. It was just different. Better.

And Chuck was certain that he wasn't the only one who could feel the tension rise as the evening progressed.

It wasn't that he was getting horny – well, not _only_ that – but the fact that since they got to know each other they had always had something else weighting on them, like the war, Operation Pitfall or Chuck's recovery. And lately, during Raleigh's visit, Max or Chuck's dad had kept them distracted. But not that night.

For the first time since they got to know each other their undivided attention was focused on the other. The only possible exception to that might have been their fight, when at least Chuck had seen nothing else except for how much he wanted to rearrange Raleigh's face. The emotions flaring inside of him had been anger that time and even if they were of an entirely different nature now they were no less intense.

It wasn't like Drifting – nothing could ever be like Drifting – but it felt just as overwhelming.

Chuck was hyperaware of everything Raleigh did, the cadence in his voice, the way he moved and how Raleigh occasionally bumped Chuck's foot with his own, when he wanted to make a point or just make sure that he still had his attention.

As if Chuck would be able to focus on anything else.

They didn't touch besides Raleigh's foot nudges but Chuck could tell that it wasn't for lack of desire to do so, rather self-preservation. He wasn't entirely sure what would happen if they did. Chuck felt a tickle under his skin, unlike anything he had ever felt before. He was _dying_ to touch but wasn't sure if he would be able to hold himself back if he did. All that focus and intensity seemed to be building, even if they were just talking, and Chuck knew that if he got some kind of outlet he wouldn't care where they were – he would just go for it.

He felt like a fucking teenager.

And bloody hell, if Chuck could stop smiling sometime soon he'd be very grateful. He had never smiled this much in such a short period of time. Not that Raleigh seemed to mind. He was looking dorky as ever and happy enough for three.

"Stop staring at my face, Ray," Chuck drawled before downing the last of his third beer which, to Raleigh's credit, really was better than the one they had back in their fridge. So on that alone this was already a successful date.

"I just like it when you smile, Charlie," Raleigh replied smoothly. "You have dimples."

Chuck rolled his eyes.

"So you've told me."

"It's adorable."

"Oi!" Chuck snapped, but he wasn't entirely sure what to follow it up with. Claiming that he wasn't adorable would probably only make Raleigh coo, which Chuck had every intention of avoiding if he could. He settled for something more neutral, holding up his empty bottle. "Do you want another or not? Because if you keep that up you won't get one."

Raleigh winked – fucking _winked_ – but said nothing, which Chuck assumed was some kind of assent. So before he allowed himself to think any further on it he pushed away from the table and headed over to the bar to get them another round. He felt quite comfortably warm by then but had no troubles whatsoever to navigate the fairly crowded establishment. Most people barely even looked at him and Chuck was completely fine with that. He liked the lack of attention he was getting from them.

It was when Chuck reached out to accept the beers from the bartender that some whacker bumped into him with enough force that he had to slam his palms against the bar to maintain his balance.

"Oi! Watch it you fucking idiot!" Chuck snarled before he even had time to turn around.

The bloke was smaller than Chuck but didn't seem to be deterred by that, nor the fact that even if Chuck wasn't quite back in his former shape he was still noticeably fit. Chuck wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing that the bloke didn't seem to recognise him. Usually civilians took a step back either out of respect or slight fear if they realised that he was Chuck Hansen, pilot of Striker Eureka and one of the few things that had kept them from complete extinction. But he guessed it was a little different now. The war was over, Striker destroyed and Chuck had been out of the limelight for several months, still not having given as much as a comment on Operation Pitfall and its aftermath.

This time it seemed rather unlikely that his status as a Jaeger pilot would make any difference.

"Then don't stand in my way." The accent was clearly local so Chuck couldn't even blame it on the bloke being a tourist. He looked pretty fucking trashed though, and clearly more than a little careless, probably because he had the full backing of his two equally drunk pals. That kind of camaraderie bred a particular kind of idiocy.

"Piss off, before I kick your scrawny little arse," Chuck growled, never mind that he might not actually be in any shape to follow through on the threat. If he was unlucky enough to get a blow to his knee there was no telling what that would do to his ability to stand, let alone fight.

Chuck couldn't see as much as he sensed that Raleigh was moving, probably towards them. Chuck didn't know how he knew but he did. Other patrons were glancing their way but were definitely more interested in minding their own business.

"Oh yeah? Bring it, hotshot!"

Chuck should have been prepared for the push. A part of him was, but he still found himself stumbling backwards when his knee buckled, unable to handle the sudden shift in his weight. He missed the bar when he tried to brace against it but his back collided with a solid chest a second later, hands grabbing his elbows to help keep him upright.

Chuck didn't even have to look over his shoulder to know that it was Raleigh.

To his surprise Raleigh barely waited for Chuck to regain his balance before he was trying to get past him. Chuck realised why just in time to reach out and grab a hold of the collar of Raleigh's t-shirt, squeezing so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Don't even think about it," he hissed, keeping his weight on his right leg for now, while the fucker and his friends laughed at Chuck's stumble. The scorn burned, it really did, but Chuck would be damned before he let Raleigh defend his honour. "I'll fucking kill you if you try to fight my battles."

Raleigh's expression was tight with anger – very similar to the one Chuck had found himself levelled with when he insulted Mako – but he took enough time to look at Chuck, a confused frown appearing on his face.

"What? Why would I do that?" Raleigh looked honestly baffled. "I want to punch him because he's an asshole."

Chuck held his breath, waiting for some kind of tipping point – something to help him decide his next course of action.

It came when he looked into Raleigh's eyes. There was no pity there, only righteous fury. Raleigh would probably do the same for a complete stranger, because that's the kind of guy he was. It had nothing to do with Chuck or his ability to defend himself and everything to do with Raleigh's need to be true to his own moral code, slanting towards punishment as it might be.

Chuck's hand, almost pressed against Raleigh's collarbone, rose and fell with Raleigh's breath once, twice, before Chuck made his decision. His fingers unfurled, his hand lingering on Raleigh's chest just for a second, before he took a step back.

"Sic 'em, boy."

Raleigh lashed out like he hadn't been interrupted in the first place, moving so swiftly and unexpectedly that neither the bloke nor his two friends saw it coming. Chuck knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of that and couldn't help watching with a certain kind of satisfaction as the bloke practically flew backwards from Raleigh's blow.

The moment of stunned silence that followed was downright hilarious.

Everything seemed to still for a second as people around them were trying to catch up to the situation, most of them staring in surprise. Some might recognise who Raleigh and Chuck were at that point but the three fellows in front of them certainly didn't. Otherwise they would probably have thought twice before doing what they did next.

Raleigh was more than prepared when one of the decked bloke's pals tried some kind of flailing retaliation and threw him to the floor in less than two seconds. It looked like it hurt.

"Rather excessive use of force there, darling," Chuck drawled as he eased back to avoid getting in the way for the third bloke that came stumbling as Raleigh ducked his wild, uncoordinated swing.

Raleigh shot him a look that seemed to say that Chuck wasn't helping. But Raleigh was the one who had started the whole thing so he could damn well get himself out of it was well. It wasn't like it was difficult. It was quite pathetic really, to see the poor, pissed bastards run into someone that could clearly kick their arses to next Sunday without effort.

Which was why Chuck decided to just lean back against the bar and watch the show, despite the judging look the bartender gave him for his obvious involvement in the whole spectacle – or lack of attempts to stop it. As if Chuck could hold Raleigh back when he really wanted something?

Or maybe it was his running commentary of the fight that pissed the bartender off? Chuck wasn't sure. Either way he wasn't particularly surprised when they got tossed out as soon as someone managed to break it up, Raleigh for practically pulverising three people and Chuck for being such an arsehole, presumably.

Chuck had a hard time holding back a laugh when Raleigh grabbed his arm and pulled him around the corner, into a darkened alleyway. Chuck assumed it was to avoid another confrontation with the three other blokes, who were bound to come stumbling out next, so he made no protests and simply followed where Raleigh lead him.

"Figures our first date would end in a fistfight," Chuck said, voice low not because he was trying to be discreet but because he knew that he'd start laughing if he didn't control himself. The entire situation was so ridiculous funny and yet somehow exactly what he had expected.

"Well, at least it wasn't you I was punching this time. I'd call that improvement," Raleigh replied, turning so that he was walking backwards, grinning impishly at Chuck. It was then Chuck realised that Raleigh still maintained a grip around Chuck's wrist, his fingers warm against Chuck's skin.

Chuck couldn't tell if it was that simple yet electrifying touch or the remaining high after the adrenaline rush – or perhaps even Raleigh's ruffled appearance, his bruised knuckles and the streak of blood on his cheek – but Chuck felt an instantaneous, sharp, warm squeeze of need in his gut. One exhale and suddenly there was nothing he wanted more than to get an outlet for the tension wound tight inside of him.

Raleigh didn't struggle when Chuck pushed him up against the closest wall, both reaching for the other at the same time. They crashed together, Raleigh's hands slipping into Chuck's hair while Chuck gripped Raleigh's t-shirt, not quite sure if he was pushing or pulling. It was difficult to say if what followed could really be considered as a kiss but it sure as hell made Chuck's entire being hum in pleasure. The warm glow low in Chuck's stomach was curling and twisting before spreading through his limbs, making him press closer, wanting more. Raleigh met it easily, matching Chuck step by step.

Raleigh tasted like beer and a faint tinge of iron and Chuck chased the sensations with his tongue, the kiss deepening until it seemed more like they were trying to devour one another. Chuck couldn't stop even if he wanted to. It had been building inside of him the entire evening and now when he finally got to have it – to taste it – he sure as hell wasn't going to let it go.

It felt like something was crackling under his skin, the tension between them finally erupting into an intense, suffocating whirlwind of impressions and sheer need. Chuck was pressing Raleigh against the wall, his hands wandering lower, curling around the curve of Raleigh's ribs, then his waist, followed by his hips. When Raleigh broke the kiss it was only to give them both an opportunity to suck in a much needed breath of air before the urgency took hold of them again.

Chuck shivered as he shared that breath with Raleigh, his fingers catching in the fabric of Raleigh's t-shirt. It was probably a little too cold to be outside without something warmer – Raleigh obviously favoured thick jumpers – but neither of them seemed to care at that moment. It was barely three seconds before their lips met again, picking up right where they left off.

Chuck knew that he kissed with a feral, bold fierceness but Raleigh didn't seem to mind, even if he was clearly softer – could probably be quite romantic and sensual if he wanted to. Now he just seemed to adapt to the pace Chuck set for them, not lacking in enthusiasm judging on the response he was giving. Chuck enjoyed the heat of it, to feel it burn along his spine, and allowed Raleigh to angle his head through the grip he had on his hair.

It was impossible not to notice how well Chuck's hands fit on Raleigh's hips and how easily they seemed to slot together. Kissing Raleigh came as naturally as many other things they did, even if that too involved a fair share of bickering, but of a more intimate nature. Chuck couldn't help biting into Raleigh's bottom lip, just a little, which earned him a tug on his hair. He wasn't sure if Raleigh meant that was a reprimand or encouragement but it made Chuck growl and press closer all the same.

He didn't know how long they stood there in that dark alleyway but once they finally seemed to take a breathing break longer than five seconds Chuck had both his hands inside Raleigh's t-shirt, his palm flat against Raleigh's sides, holding him in place as he tried to resist the urge to grind against him. As much as Chuck was all for sex on the first date he had standards. A dark, filthy alley wasn't quite what he would go for if he had a choice, especially not with Raleigh. Chuck wanted to savour that moment.

Raleigh was grinning widely, pressing a lingering, closed mouthed kiss to Chuck's lips. He looked positively delirious.

"That was long overdue," Raleigh mumbled, their breaths mingling.

"Definitely, yeah," Chuck agreed. He didn't retrieve his hands, quite pleased to have them against Raleigh's bare skin.

"We should probably head back, right?" Raleigh didn't seem particularly interested in that option even if it was the responsible thing to do. It wasn't anywhere near too late but Chuck had a meeting with his therapist the following morning and his dad would nag if he missed it.

"My old man will be there." Chuck knew he didn't have to say it out loud for Raleigh to understand what he was implying. There would be no messing around when they got home.

Granted that Chuck had already Drifted with his dad so there wasn't much Herc _didn't_ know but Chuck had a feeling that Raleigh would be against flaunting it like that.

"Well, true," Raleigh replied, the mischievous spark returning to his eyes, "but there's always tomorrow."

Chuck allowed himself a second to process that before he chuckled, letting his hands slide higher along Raleigh's sides, pleased to find that Raleigh moved with the touch, arching his back just the slightest. Tomorrow meant Chuck's dad being at work pretty much all day. Chuck's therapy appointment wouldn't take long so there would be lots of time for other things. Very naughty things.

"I'll hold you to that."

Chuck couldn't tell if his or Raleigh's grin was the widest. Chuck barely kept himself from snorting. He was becoming dorkier by association, he just knew it.

"Come on, I'll sneak inside and get our jackets while you get the car. We better get home and put some ice on your knuckles," Chuck said before pulling back.

Only Raleigh followed, demanding one more kiss, then a second and eventually they were back to kissing. It was slower this time though – Raleigh's pace – and caused a completely different kind of warmth to spread in Chuck's chest. The sheer indulgence in that deep, unhurried kiss left Chuck feeling out of breath, pleasure rolling through his veins like thick, molten ember. But it wasn't the urgent need from before, oh no, it was like a solid weight in Chuck's gut with so much more significance and meaning. He'd do anything to keep it.

Damn Raleigh.

But at least the emotions conveyed in Raleigh's actions let Chuck know that he felt the same. There was no mistaking the gentleness and care in Raleigh's touch. They were in this madness together, for better or worse.

Chuck's dad was, understandably, not pleased to hear about the bar fight. Not that he had any real power to scold them because both Chuck and Raleigh were adults and probably wouldn't listen anyway, but they certainly couldn't miss the judging, reprimanding glares they were levelled with all the same. But at least that meant that the smugness over the matchmaking having worked was left to a minimum. Chuck's dad was probably already asking himself if it had been such a good idea after all.

Chuck would have laughed at him if he hadn't been so busy focusing the majority of his attention on Raleigh. Only Max could sometimes take priority.

Having Raleigh and Chuck live in the same house was both the best and worst idea imaginable. Best because they had instant access to each other whenever they felt so inclined but worst because they weren't exactly alone in the house.

The first time his old man walked in on them making out in the kitchen the look of exasperated, suffering disapproval made Chuck snap that it was Raleigh's tongue he had down his throat, not his cock – so it could certainly have been worse, right? His dad didn't seem to appreciate the imagery however and Raleigh had a hard time keeping a neutral face in front of Herc for two days after that, always leaning slightly towards hysterical, and possibly terrified, embarrassment.

But it wasn't like they had unlimited time together either. Raleigh had a new job to focus on and was often expected to work long hours at the construction site. Luckily enough neither of them had anything against shower sex whenever Raleigh came home, dusty and grimy from work, and the running water muffled some of the noise.

Chuck's dad also seemed to develop a sixth sense for when it was time to take Max out for strategically long walks to allow Chuck and Raleigh to blow off some steam.

It wasn't an ideal arrangement but it worked. Chuck knew that one of the few reasons it did was because his dad saw just how happy Chuck was. It might be hidden under snarky comments and constant bickering but Chuck really was happy – happier than he could ever remember being. And Herc clearly wanted him to have that and was more lenient than usual because of it.

Chuck knew that he might be throwing himself into it head first without really considering the consequences – he was far too inexperienced when it came to relationships to know where to be cautious or not – but he couldn't help it. He wanted it so badly that he decided to be a little reckless.

Still, he couldn't say that he was surprised when his dad brought it up one evening when Raleigh wasn't due back home for another hour, clearly having wanted to have the conversation for a while.

"I'm glad you're happy."

That was a weird conversation starter, even for his dad. Chuck looked up from the potatoes he was peeling, raising a dubious eyebrow. Cooking might not be something Chuck enjoyed but he had faced the fact that unless he wanted to starve he'd have to make an effort and learn. The other two in the house were of similar opinions so they all made sure to take turns. Tonight it was Chuck's.

"What are you getting at, old man?"

His dad crossed his arms over his chest with a sigh but didn't bother to correct Chuck on the 'old man' part. If it was because it was beginning to stick or because he had more important things to say was difficult to tell.

"I'm just saying. I'm glad that you're happy."

"I sense a 'but' in there somewhere," Chuck shot back, focusing on his potato peeling. "I know about the bees and the bees, Dad, no need to make this awkward."

His dad actually chuckled at that.

"I've been inside your head so, yeah, I'd say you've got that covered. And considering how you and Raleigh have been at it?" His dad shook his head in amusement. "I just wanted to say that Raleigh's a good bloke. Nice and dependable. I'm glad it's him."

Chuck paused briefly, giving his dad a side-eyed glare.

"There's still a 'but' in there."

"But I'll break his legs if he hurts you," his dad conceded without a hint of remorse.

Chuck couldn't help snorting on a laugh. It wasn't that he didn't believe his dad – he knew it was the god's honest truth – but it was still amusing to hear him say it. Both of them knew that Chuck didn't need protection but it was a considerate offer, in its own, slightly dysfunctional, way.

"You've told him that?" Chuck asked, grinning despite himself.

"No need. He already knows." Chuck's dad leaned against the kitchen counter, looking at Chuck's hands as he kept peeling. "It's one of the reasons he's one of the good ones. But don't think that means that you're free to behave however you want."

Chuck looked up, meeting his dad's gaze without hesitation, despite the sternness he found there. Chuck allowed the silence to linger for a couple of seconds before he replied.

"I'm not going to fuck this up, Dad. Not intentionally at least."

There was no telling how much he could ruin _without_ intending to do so however. But Chuck hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Just take it easy, okay?" his dad suggested, his posture relaxing somewhat. "I know it's all new and exciting right now but it's not just your happiness riding on this, it's Raleigh's too. That's what you need to remember. When you're in a relationship it's not just about you."

Chuck gritted his teeth.

"Thanks for making me sound like a selfish bastard, you fucking arse."

"That's because you are one. Or at least were. You're getting better." The smile on his dad's lips actually managed to soften the blow somewhat. "You're just thick-headed enough that I figured that you'd need it spelled out for you."

"Yeah, yeah," Chuck muttered, not really able to argue with that. Chuck wasn't all that insightful when it came to matters of the heart, but it did feel like he was getting better at being aware of the damage he could cause with his actions.

He was less angry to name one and Raleigh never had that constipated, hurt look on his face anymore. Chuck felt more grounded too and less prone to snap as soon as something even remotely resembling an insult was flung his way. So Chuck had to be improving.

"Raleigh is happy too, you know." Herc's voice was surprisingly gentle.

Chuck swallowed, feeling a little embarrassed all of a sudden. He could practically feel his ears burning.

"You make him happy, Chuck. As long as you remember and keep striving towards that you'll be fine."

Chuck cleared his throat, avoiding his dad's gaze at all cost. As awkward and bashful as it made him feel he couldn't help being grateful too. It wasn't that the doubted that he was good enough for Raleigh – Chuck had too much pride to worry about something like that – but it was comforting to know that he wasn't just deluding himself that this thing with Raleigh was working. His dad saw it too. That eased some of Chuck's doubts.

Not that Chuck would ever say that out loud.

"You are so fucking sappy sometimes, did you know that?" he drawled teasingly, not surprised to receive a reprimanding slap at the back of his head. It didn't even make Chuck bristle for once, possibly because he deserved it.

He grinned at his dad, who looked back, shaking his head with a smile.

"Keep peeling, you cocky brat."

Chuck flipped him off.

It was actually quite astounding to realise that Chuck had almost forgotten about his injured leg. Not on an everyday basis because he was reminded of that all the time when he felt a twinge of pain or he and Raleigh had to be careful during sex not to make things worse. No, he meant feeling bad or depressed about it. The limitations frustrated him, sure, but he had accepted them. He had so much else to think about that he didn't feel like it was the end of the world that he couldn't run anymore.

The fact that he was still able to keep up his physique helped – better than he thought he would anyway – as did the fact Raleigh and his dad knew not to treat Chuck differently just because of a bum leg. Half of the times Chuck was pretty sure that they forgot about it, just like he did. Chuck honestly didn't feel all that affected by his injury, not when he was more interested in what he was going to study or how to best get time alone with Raleigh. It became just another part of his life.

Like Raleigh. Even if there was no 'just' about that.

Chuck never felt a need to closely examine the emotions behind whatever he and Raleigh had. All he cared about was that they were solid, mutual and reliable so exactly what they were – which word to use to define them – didn't really matter. Not to Chuck anyway and hopefully not to Raleigh either. Whatever was between them seemed to manage without introspection or emotionally loaded terms.

Chuck was grateful for that.

One week bled into two, which swiftly moved on to three and Chuck could tell that his dad's patience might be wearing a little thin when it came to Chuck and Raleigh's inability to keep their hands off each other. But it wasn't Chuck's fault if he couldn't help his urge to walk up behind Raleigh and slide his hands in under that white singlet when Raleigh was preparing coffee in the mornings. Those were some rather impressive, fondable abs and Chuck was definitely not going to miss out on an opportunity to touch them.

Chuck had this insane urge to touch Raleigh as soon as they were within ten feet of each other.

Besides, it always made Raleigh look adorably dorky and happy whenever Chuck was being physical and affectionate with him, which only made Chuck want to do it more. Making Raleigh smile was rapidly becoming one of his new favourite past times, no matter how girly it was.

And Chuck had every intention of ignoring his dad's knowing and almost wistful smiles whenever he saw them being cutesy together.

It was shortly after Chuck had decided that he wanted to study engineering – mostly because it would allow him to be more physical and work with his hands – that Raleigh nagged him into helping him pick out an apartment. Chuck wasn't exactly busy that day anyway and he figured that since he would be spending a lot of time at Raleigh's place it could actually be a good idea to see what it would look like.

Chuck knew that it was only because Raleigh was too kind to remind people that he was a hero from the Kaiju War that it took him several weeks to find three apartments to look at. If Raleigh had mentioned that earlier he would probably have been given one within a couple of day's time, no matter what kind of shortages there might be.

The first one they looked at was far too rundown for Chuck's liking. He knew that it was silly of him to be picky considering how some people were forced to live in the most war torn areas of the world, but that didn't mean that Raleigh should have to settle. Raleigh if anyone deserved a place that didn't have remaining damage from a Kaiju attack.

Chuck said as much and Raleigh eventually agreed to move on to the next, which was definitely in much better shape and located more strategically as well.

It seemed just the right size for what Raleigh would need and Chuck quite liked the large windows, even if the view left a lot to be desired. The smiling bloke owning the building promised that it was a good neighbourhood and that he took any maintenance issues seriously. If that was true Chuck could admit that it seemed like quite a catch, especially considering the price.

To Chuck's surprise Raleigh only seemed troubled and almost disappointment when Chuck approved of the place. He thought that Raleigh wanted his input. A part of Chuck wanted to snap that if Raleigh had asked him to come along he must have expected Chuck to have opinions, but another knew that there was no use picking a fight. It was Raleigh's decision, not Chuck's.

So he kept it to himself, even if Raleigh's thoughtful silence was getting on his nerves.

The third place was by far the largest with a surprisingly nice kitchen and a very roomy shower – which Chuck could admit caught his eyes for several different reasons, most of them perverted. Chuck was well aware of Raleigh's gaze tracking his progress as he sauntered around the place, but it wasn't until Chuck stopped to look out the living room window, noting that there was an attached balcony, that Raleigh spoke up.

"I have a confession to make."

Chuck glanced over his shoulder, somehow not surprised to find that the woman that had showed them around and gushed about the floor plan must have been asked to step outside for a while, leaving Chuck and Raleigh alone in the barren apartment.

Something was definitely up.

"What's that?" Chuck asked, hands in his pockets and still relaxed, despite Raleigh's odd behaviour.

"I asked to see pictures from all of the apartments before I came here." Raleigh took a deep breath as if to brace himself for what was to come. "And this is the one I want."

Chuck briefly wondered why the fuck he had been asked to come along – to all three apartments no less – if Raleigh had already made his decision, but something told him that was not the thing to say. So he took his time, throwing another glance across the living room and what little he could see of the kitchen and one of the two bedrooms.

Chuck tilted his head to the side, turning to face Raleigh more fully. Raleigh's shoulders were stiff, his hands clenching and unclenching almost nervously, but he refused to look away from Chuck.

"It's a big place for one person," Chuck said eventually, voice carefully neutral. He wasn't sure if he was on the right track until he saw the way Raleigh's gaze flickered.

"Yeah, I know..."

Chuck forced himself to keep breathing, waiting for the continuation he knew had to be coming. Raleigh couldn't leave him hanging, not considering what he was obviously heading towards.

Raleigh cleared his throat, his smile a little unsure but no less hopeful.

"There's a small park five minutes away and it's about a twenty minute walk to the university."

Meaning that there was a place to take Max and it was close to where Chuck would be going to school – much closer than his dad's house.

Chuck couldn't say exactly what he was feeling in that moment. It took a couple of seconds before it even caught up with him and when it did he had to focus on breathing first and foremost.

Raleigh wanted them to move in together.

A part of Chuck couldn't help wondering if this would be going against his dad's advice of taking things easy but the majority of him just couldn't help latching on to the idea. It would make so many things so much easier for the both of them – and Chuck's dad – and he just _wanted to_. Chuck had never been close enough to anyone to feel that need before and definitely never had the opportunity to act on it. Until now.

Because here they were, standing in the apartment that could be theirs, and every single part of Chuck was screaming at him to take the chance, to share this with Raleigh. After all they had been through they had still found each other, no matter how unlikely it had seemed from the start, when they could do nothing but argue. Chuck found that he didn't want to change a thing – not even the months he had spent without Raleigh. Those had been necessary for Chuck to find his confidence again, without relying on someone else, and he knew that he was calmer and stronger because of it.

He was ready for this. School, the apartment, Raleigh – all of it.

Chuck could honestly see himself live here. He could easily imagine how happy he would be, sharing this space with Raleigh and Max. It seemed almost too good to be true.

And the huge shower was definitely a bonus.

"I know it's sudden and probably a little-... okay, _very_ bold of me to ask, but that doesn't mean it's hasty. I've thought a lot about it." Raleigh took a couple of steps closer, gesturing as he spoke. "And we've technically been living in the same house for weeks anyway so it's not like we don't know what it's all about. But it would be different, I know that... but I would still like to try it." Raleigh seemed to swallow. "I mean, if you want to..."

Chuck kept his expression blank, which seemed to unnerve Raleigh quite a bit. He just needed a moment to gather himself. He had never thought that he would reach a point in his life where someone would ask him to move in with them. He had never thought anyone would _want_ to do that. Not with him – angry, loud and obnoxious Chuck Hansen.

But Raleigh apparently did.

It took some getting used to, even if Chuck's instinctual answer was a big, resounding yes.

"You've really thought this through, haven't you?" Chuck asked.

Raleigh nodded seriously but didn't answer verbally. Chuck figured it was because he was too anxious to speak.

After a slow exhale Chuck took the last couple of steps between them and reached out, hooking his fingers around the hem of Raleigh's shirt to pull him closer. Raleigh came easily, a hopeful, tentative smile growing on his lips.

Like so many other times Chuck couldn't help smiling back.

"You are such a fucking dork, Raleigh, but yeah, let's give it a try."

Raleigh's smile was soft and gentle, full of that emotion that Chuck might not be quite ready to name yet, and the kiss he placed on Chuck's lips was chaste but achingly sweet. Raleigh seemed so happy that he could barely contain himself and Chuck was so bloody proud to be the cause for it.

"We can move in next week," Raleigh mumbled, his lips brushing against Chuck's. It was silly and girly but Chuck didn't want to pull away. He could only lean in, giving Raleigh a kiss of his own, perhaps not as sweet but not lacking in sincerity.

"Sounds perfect."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope no one expected to get a sex scene somewhere around here because I'm afraid that's not going to happen. I don't write them very often and I sort of feel like it would have spoiled the mood if I had. I went for heart-stopping sweetness instead, because that's how I roll.
> 
> Also, if you think this was cute just watch me top it in the epilogue ;)
> 
> [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) beta'ed as always - and might have been squealing a bit in this chapter.


	10. Epilogue

 

* * *

 

Chuck was sitting out on their sunny balcony, Max sprawled at his feet and course books in his lap, when Raleigh sank down on the chair next to his. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary so Chuck didn't bother to look up, at least not until he felt Raleigh nudge his thigh.

Raleigh was usually careful not to disturb Chuck when he was studying so he obviously had something very important to share. When Chuck looked up Raleigh had an adorably excited look on his face and that was honestly the only reason that Chuck allowed Raleigh to pluck the pair of sunnies from his nose and dispose of them on the small table next to Chuck's elbow.

So they were going to talk serious business. Raleigh always preferred having unobstructed eye contact when they did that.

"So," Raleigh began, holding one of his hands behind his back in a rather suspicious fashion, "your semester is soon over so you'll have a couple of weeks off, right?"

Chuck raised an eyebrow but closed his books, knowing that Raleigh deserved his full attention. It had proven the best way to avoid possible misunderstandings between them.

"Yeah. So?"

Raleigh grinned, practically vibrating with giddiness.

"So I think I can get some time off work and we should go somewhere."

He didn't want to seem sceptical but Chuck couldn't help frowning. Sure, he and Raleigh hadn't exactly been adventurous during the months they had been living together but he wasn't entirely sure where this came from.

They had a pretty good life if you asked him. Both were busy during the days – Chuck with his studies and Raleigh with work – but always saw each other in the evenings. Sometimes they ate dinner and spent the night at Herc's place because he obviously missed having Max – and to a lesser extent Chuck and Raleigh – around and they were planning to visit Mako in Japan sometime in the near future. But Chuck had a feeling that that was not the trip Raleigh had in mind.

"Somewhere... where?"

It didn't exactly narrow it down, after all.

Raleigh had obviously been waiting for that question, pulling a pile of cards from behind his back. It took a second for Chuck to realise what they were.

"The postcards? Where did you find those?" Chuck asked sharply.

He hadn't told Raleigh that he kept them when he packed up his things to move out from his dad's house. It had never been a question that he would but Chuck wasn't the sentimental kind, not like Raleigh, who kept a mismatched collection of photos and memories from before, during and after the war.

The smile on Raleigh's lips was patient in that way one usually directed at people who were unintentionally and tragically thick. Chuck took offense and pursed his lips, barely refraining from thumping Raleigh on the head with one of his heavy course books.

"In the box I'm not supposed to know about that you have at the back of the closet," Raleigh replied, his voice teasing but still soft somehow, probably because of the meaning behind Chuck's insistence to keep the postcards. Raleigh had to know that Chuck would have thrown them away long ago if he had thought that they were worthless.

Raleigh flipped the cards over to show the white backs and shuffled them around in his hand. Chuck watched the movement, his eyebrows rising when Raleigh fanned them out in front of him.

"Pick one."

Chuck froze, staring at Raleigh's face rather than the cards. He blinked a couple of times but no matter how many times he turned it over in his head he came to the same conclusion.

"This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" Chuck's voice was uncharacteristically soft, frail almost. "This is why you sent them to me."

Raleigh seemed to sense the change in the air, his expression losing some of its eagerness in favour of sober, heart-stopping sincerity. It didn't calm Chuck's nerves at all.

"You remember when we talked back in Hong Kong? When you told me to take Mako to Grand Canyon?" Raleigh kept shuffling the cards, probably to keep his hands occupied. "You said that Mako deserved to see the world. The thing is – and I don't know if you're aware of this – but you have this tendency to say one thing and mean something completely different. Or, in this case, saying that she wants what you also want."

Chuck didn't know what to reply, swallowing dryly.

"You weren't wrong. She thought it was a great idea and loved every moment of it – even helped me pick some of the postcards – but more than anything you want to see the world too, right?" Raleigh caught his gaze, smiling. "And you want to do it with someone."

How on earth could Raleigh manage to be so goddamned genuine about everything? Raleigh must have planned this for months, ever since Chuck was still in his sickbed, tired of the world and certain that Raleigh didn't give two shits about him.

No one had ever done something like this for him. No one had ever been that devoted and considerate of Chuck's childish dreams.

How the fuck does one reply to something like that?

"So you're saying that you'll take me?" Chuck asked, almost afraid to speak, as if that would mean that he'd risk losing it all.

"Well, yeah," Raleigh replied with a deceptively casual shrug. His eyes were warm and gentle. "I've been around and know where to go, the places to see."

He held out the cards, fanned out in almost perfect alignment. Chuck barely even glanced down at them, not able to look away from Raleigh's face. How could Chuck be this lucky? What had he done to deserve someone like Raleigh?

Chuck's chest ached with affection and he had a hard time not leaning in and kiss Raleigh silly.

"I'll lead the way. And I promise to do it well." Raleigh's voice was low but firm, his sincerity bleeding into every syllable.

Chuck took a slow breath, allowing a smile to spread on his lips.

"I know you will."

He didn't look down even after he had pulled one of the cards from Raleigh's pile. He couldn't stop staring into Raleigh's eyes, fondness pulsing inside him in time with his beating heart. Raleigh was the one to reach out, his free hand curling behind Chuck's neck as he pulled him in for a kiss – a warm, indulgent kiss that never failed to set Chuck's blood alight. Chuck couldn't help melting into it, leaning closer and chasing after Raleigh's taste.

It took several seconds before they parted and when they did Chuck slowly turned the postcard over, both of them looking down at the same time. A wide grin spread on Raleigh's lips when he saw their destination.

"Oh, you're going to love it there," he mumbled, affectionately nudging his nose against Chuck's.

Embarrassingly enough Chuck's only thought was that as long as he went with Raleigh he could go anywhere in the world and that alone would be enough for him to love it.

For once Chuck didn't mind how dorky that made him seem.

"Bring it on."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand there we have it. Yes, of course the postcards were important - I wouldn't have gone through the effort of adding them otherwise ;) Raleigh might just be one of the sweetest, most romantic people ever. Or at least he is when I write him.
> 
> I really hope you've enjoyed the ride anyway! I know for a fact that I have. I'm not sure why but this fanfic is very, very close to my heart and I have no idea how I managed to turn it around from angst to... well, THIS. HAPPY ENDINGS ALL AROUND. I am mighty proud!
> 
> Many hugs and kisses for my beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) and here's my [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/) for those who are interested!
> 
> It has been a lovely journey and maybe I'll see you again when I upload my next Chaleigh fic, who knows? ;D


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